Golden Years
by miss Kittyplank
Summary: Following on from Series 2. Instead of going into a coma within a coma, what if Alex is sent to Manchester, 1975? Is she dead? How did she get there? Will Gene know her? Maybe 1975 is the best place for her. Gene/Alex but not OTT. Includes Sam/Annie. More of a crossover fic, really.
1. Chapter 1

_Well hello there! I know Ashes has been off our screens for a while, but I was watching the boxset recently and realised I'd started this fic ages back which I wanted to get to and didn't - better late than never, right? Basically, the premise is that, instead of going into a coma within a coma as Alex did when Gene shot her at the end of series 2, she instead goes to Manchester 1975, because I adore the Gene/Alex pairing but there's so much about the Life on Mars world that I really enjoy as well. So I thought, why not bring the two together? I suppose it's very much a crossover, so if you like A2A and LoM to be very separate then this isn't for you. Sam is prominent, but Alex is the main character here I would say. The chapters are pretty mammoth because each is sort of an episode within itself. And...that's about all I can think to tell you. I've already written the next chapter and I know how I want this story to go and end, with the potential to go on to further stories, so if you do like, please review and let me know. _

* * *

**Chapter One:**

_Bolly._

It was the last thing she'd heard as she fell back on to the cold ground and the pain spread through her gut. All he said was _Bolly_ and all she could think was _moron_. And he was a moron - for not believing her, for not trusting her, for falling for that Irish tart and for shooting without having a clear shot.

She supposed they'd call an ambulance, but as she drifted in and out of consciousness and the darkness took over, Alex couldn't help but wish it hadn't ended quite like this. With she and Gene at odds, with her dying in this world.

Opening her eyes, she wasn't sure what she was going to see. _50ml_. Had she fought off the infection? She didn't know. She bloody hoped so. But to Alex's disappointment, it wasn't Molly standing over her, nor even a doctor, and she was still on cold ground.

Blinking against the light - or the Sun, there was definitely a breeze in the air -, she was instead confronted by a tramp.

"You alright, love?"

Alex swallowed, blinking again, her hand flying down to her stomach. She looked down to find nothing, the pain gone. "I've just been..." _What? Shot?_ She closed her eyes as the déjà vu almost overwhelmed her. "_God_."

The tramp smiled at her, as he hovered awkwardly. He seemed friendly enough. "If you insist, but most people call me Michael."

Alex licked her lips thoughtfully, frowning at his accent. "Do you know where I am, Michael?

"In a park." Michael's smile went on. "Though why you're lying down I don't know - looks like rain."

She blinked, suddenly taking in her surroundings, - grass, trees, it certainly looked like a park - and sitting up. "Why not?" She smiled grimly, accepting the hand up he offered her. "It's not as if my day could get any worse. Do you know what park this might be?"

"Albert Park."

"Right." She looked around again, hoping to suddenly recognise something. "Albert Park in..."

"Salford."

"Salford." She repeated dumbly, before her eyes widened. " - Salford, Manchester?!"

"Did you bash your head?" Michael asked, his smile starting to wane. "Would explain why you're on the ground."

"Yes, it would explain that, wouldn't it?" Alex barked a laugh nervously, almost manically. She couldn't believe it; she didn't understand _any of it_. "It would explain why I'm asking for the year, too."

This time Michael barked a laugh, but he quickly frowned at the expectant expression on the batty woman in front of him. "You're not joking." She shook her head. He sniffed, puzzled. "It's 1975, March 3rd. A Monday, if you really want to know."

"1975." Alex whispered, swallowing the bile that was beginning to rise in her throat. She closed her eyes again, willing herself not to panic. _1975, Manchester_. What the hell was going on? Shot again and flung somewhere else in time? "Perhaps if I get myself shot for a third time, I'll be able to go back to the swinging sixties," She joked, even as her eyes filled with tears. "- could be fun."

Michael nodded slowly; Alex pulled it together a little as she watched him attempt to follow her train of thought."Did you just say you've been shot?"

"It doesn't matter." She smiled tearfully, waving him off. "I guess I'm just wondering why I'm here."

"Aren't we all?" He shrugged, the smile suddenly back. "Maybe this is the right place for you - better than the alternative."

Alex frowned at that. _Alternative?_ If it was between this or Molly, then the choice was simple, but maybe she wouldn't have been so lucky - luck certainly didn't seem to be her friend these days - and her death in 1982 might have been it, forever. She shuddered at the thought.

Although luck was on her side this afternoon - or morning, she couldn't really tell - as she had managed to stumble across the nicest man with no abode that she'd ever met. He didn't even smell. Although she'd had a few strange looks as Michael escorted her through town and to the bus stop, asking her politely about her life and where she needed to be.

Her mind had automatically gone to Gene - even though the stupid bastard had just shot her - because she didn't know who else to turn to. Alex couldn't think why else she'd be dumped in Manchester like this. Oh God, she prayed that she'd been dumped here. If this was all in her head as well, then she really had lost her mind. But as they walked through the streets, weaved themselves through the traffic and she had taken the time to look around her, the idea that this was a mere fantasy was losing its credence. Manchester - she'd never even been this far north. And here it was, in 1975, in technicolour and full of life. And not one building looked familiar, not one person.

Not even she, herself, was recognizable. She'd stopped horrified in front of a shop window as she caught her reflection. A long fitted leather coat with a fur collar, all in a very questionable shade of brown; a long-sleeved cream cotton jumpsuit; red Mary Jane heels with a gold watch stuck on 9:06 and gold hoops to match. And her hair - well, she supposed anything was preferable to the perm of 1981. But still, it was very Farrah Fawcett. _At least, I'm still a brunette_.

But eventually, before she knew what was happening, Michael was wishing her luck and putting her on a bus. She wrapped the coat around her, that northern wind chilling her to bone; she supposed this coat would fare better up here than her white jacket.

"Right, now you just make sure you get off on the third stop, alright? That'll be Stopford House."

He was putting change in her hand. A tramp was giving her money - as if her day couldn't get any weirder. She rolled over the name in her mind. "Stopford House, yes, that sounds right - doesn't it?"

"It will be."

Michael seemed so sure, and she needed someone to be. She smiled again, suddenly tearful once more at the idea of being left alone. "Sir, thank you so much." She rummaged through her pockets, praying she had some money. "Let me have a look if I have some notes-"

"No need for that, and it's Michael." He assured her, smiling confidently. "Look after yourself, love. Forget about why you're here and just trust what you know."

Alex looked up sharply at the cryptic advice, but the bus was already pulling away. And then she was all alone. Nothing new there, then.

* * *

Walking through the station's doors, her eyes drunk in the sight before her, surprised at how dimly lit everything was. It seemed a bit oppressive, really, and very man-ish. This, she supposed, _this_ was Gene's kingdom. What he'd grown up with, what he'd ruled over with an iron fist for years. Her heart panged somewhat to think Fenchurch East was little more than a blip in the grand scheme of things. She pulled the coat around her again, still feeling cold.

"Mornin' love." Alex turned at the voice, seeing the skipper behind the desk. An older woman, seemingly friendly enough. "How can I help you?"

"I don't know if I'm in the right place." Alex found herself blurting out. "Well, I know I'm not, I thought I'd get home but I don't think I beat the infection, I think it might even be over..." She trailed off, the familiar sensation of panic rearing its ugly head.

If the policewoman was taken aback, she didn't show it, but just frowned, concerned. "You don't sound like you're from round here?" Alex shook her head, willing herself not to cry. "You wanna cuppa or somethin'?

"That'd be lovely." Alex bit her lip, thoughtfully. "Actually, I was hoping to speak to Gene-"

"Here, Sam!" The woman turned to the man who'd just walked through another set of doors. "Speak to her, would you - had curry last night and I need the loo. And I'll make you that brew, love - sugar?" But Alex was too shocked to take notice. Phyllis rolled her eyes at the lack of response - Tyler always seemed to be attracting the ladies. "Sugar, it is, then."

"Let's hope Phyllis washes her hands before she makes you that tea." Sam grinned, hoping to put the lady before him at ease. "I'm kidding - she won't bother." He tried for one last joke, but frowned as the woman continued to stare. "Would you like to sit down? I'm Detective Inspector Sam-"

"Tyler, I know."

_Of course, Sam's here_. How did she not think? Was that why she here? The questions started to swirl around her head as she drunk him in, in his leather jacket and flares. She swallowed, her throat dry. She'd painted such a picture in her head, before all this. Of a committed police officer who, due to a tragic incident, had been caught up in delusions so powerful that he'd felt obliged to take his own life. Sam Tyler - he'd been a sad man in her mind, who'd cried out for help but had been failed by the health system and by the police.

And here he was, smiling.

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

"No, but I've heard of you." Alex said quietly, finally tearing her gaze away from the man before her. Her heart soared to think that there would be someone in this world who would understand her perfectly, who would _believe_ her. "From before. From when you worked in Hyde." She watched carefully, as a flicker of recognition came across Sam's face. "That's what it said, didn't it? That you were from Hyde. It's been so long now that I scarcely remember your account of it, of this."

"Account of what?"

He asked slowly, almost scared of the answer, but she barely heard him, choosing to take a chair. "Do you know, when I first arrived, I wouldn't shut up? I kept badgering on about imaginary constructs and head trauma, and even though I've stopped that - more or less - I still believed in it a little. That even though it's so _real_, it could be all in my head." She saw Sam's eyes widen as things began to fall into place for him, as he came to take the seat beside her, shocked into silence. "That I simply adopted your fantasies, fitting them to my own experiences. But _this_-!" She looked around the room, again, none of it familiar to her. "This is your world and I couldn't imagine any of this if I tried."

Sam licked his lips, finding his voice. "What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't, but it's Alex. DI Alex Drake." She frowned thoughtfully, trying to remember all she could. "You were a DCI before, weren't you?"

He pinched his nose, not really knowing where to start. "Okay, who are you?"

"I think I just answered that." She smirked briefly, sickly enjoying for a moment that someone else was just as baffled as she was.

"And where are you from?"

"The future." She grimaced, thinking about what had happened the last time she'd admitted that to someone. "2008, to be precise."

"I don't..." Sam shook his head, confused. "I made my choice, and I've been left alone. No more Test Card girl, no more voices coming out of radios, no more DCI Morgan - so, what are you here for?"

"I'm not here for you." Alex said, before realising she had no idea at all. "I don't think. I might be... in 1975 for you, but I...I was shot in the head and I originally..." Her mind began to whirl again. If this was 1975, then she'd really gone back in time, at least in this world. And so much had yet to happen. Gene's move down to London. Sam's car crash. She frowned, wondering if that was why she was here. To save Sam. All that business with Martin Summers had taught her that past events could, in fact, be changed in this world. But how much could she say? "I don't think I can even tell you."

"What? Why not?" Sam demanded.

"I don't know why I'm here." She answered, as honestly as she could, taking a deep breath. "All I know is what happened to you, happened to me, but unlike you, I don't want to stay, I _can't_." Alex told him desperately, her voice catching. "I've got a little girl. My little girl."

"You've been shot, in the head." She nodded, putting a hand to her mouth as she began to softly cry. Sam's heart went out to her. He wasn't quite sure how much to believe, or why she was here, but if this was all an act, then it was a bloody good one. "Shit." She nodded again in agreement. "You'll be needing something stronger than tea, then."

Alex tried to smile, but couldn't, the tears free flowing. It dawned on her that she was going to have to start from scratch, this time in a place which was _nothing_ like home. "I've no money, no flat, I don't think." She sighed, wishing for Luigi and his veal scaloppini. "I don't know anybody here."

"You know me." Sam put an assuring hand to her shoulder, making a snap decision to trust her. She looked at him, doubtfully. "And I'll get to know you." He insisted. "You're not alone, Alex, not anymore."

"Thank you." She choked back a sob, feeling a sense of relief that she hadn't felt in a long time. She didn't have Molly, but at least there was something in this Godforsaken world who knew what she was going through and cared.

Sam smiled comfortingly, his thumb going to wipe her mascara with little success. She smiled tearfully, sure she looked a state. "Ladies' is just through there." He nodded over to a door, knowing she probably needed a moment. "Don't worry, Phyllis will be ponging out C.I.D's loos. She always does." He rolled his eyes affectionately, watching as she went.

Sam wiped a hand over his face, trying to put all the pieces together. It had been so long now, that he'd almost found himself forgetting that he'd ever had a life before all this. A part of him didn't really want the reminder, but this Alex Drake, whoever she was, was in need. _Someone like me_. And with a child, nonetheless; he knew that he would have been thankful to have had a guide here when he'd first arrived. He'd have to help her. God knows what she'd think of this place, of Manchester, of C.I.D, of the Guv-

"Gladys!" Sam grimaced, as he heard that familiar voice call for him. He looked up, as Gene Hunt stormed through C.I.D's doors. "Oi, you lazy git, are you deaf or somethin'?! We got a lead!" Gene clapped his hands together with satisfaction before frowning questioningly. "Why are you out here?"

"There's a ...woman, she's upset." Sam offered, not knowing Alex's place in all this yet and not really sure how much or what to say.

"Yeah, well, tell her to take a ticket and wait in line - we got scum to catch!" Gene grinned in anticipation. "Jim Davids needs taking down a peg or -"

"I better stay here, Guv." Sam tried, not wanting to leave Alex alone.

"And do plod's job?" Gene snorted at the ridiculous notion. "Ray! Chris!"

"Guv, she's...she's had a bit of a shock." He tried again, getting up from his seat.

"You'll find most folk aren't just popping by to see how we are, Tyler." The Guv rolled his eyes, pointing to Phyllis as she walked back to her desk and Ray came out to join them. "Here's Phyllis now, she good enough for you?" He said dismissively, getting impatient. "Christopher!"

"I needed a quick shite, that alright?" Phyllis scowled, putting her mug on the desk. "Tea's here for her - where she go?"

Sam sighed inwardly; he was not looking forward to making introductions. "She's just..."

"A nice bit of crumpet?" Gene asked, bemused by Sam's interest. "Would you lot hurry up?!" He barked, finally getting his wish as Christopher flew through the doors, sandwich in hand.

"Sorry, Guv," Chris apologised, mouth full, "I was just-"

"Shut up and get in the car!" The Guv demanded, holding open the front door for them to step through. He clenched his jaw, angrily, as Tyler hovered. "Sam! Now!"

But Sam's attention was no longer on him.

"Bloody Nora." The Guv turned automatically at Ray's exclamation, his eyes taking in the woman who'd come out of the toilets, coat in hand and eyes trained on him. Ray's eyes, meanwhile, raked her up and down. "You're a sight for sore eyes, sweetheart."

"Just back off, Ray." Sam warned.

"Pissing on what's yours, boss?" Ray frowned, irritated, before turning his attention back to the lady. "I wouldn't waste your breath, love, he's spoken for."

But Alex only had eyes for Gene. Sam could only watch as her look of surprise morphed into anger and she suddenly dropped her coat, launching herself and her fists at the Guv. "You stupid son of a bitch! This is your fault! If you can't aim," She shouted, a smack to his shoulder permeating each word, "_don't_ _bloody_ _fire_!"

"What-!" The Guv tried, trying to pull her arms down. "Why are you -?!" He scowled, as a fist caught his chin, liking there to be a reason before he got a smack in the chops. "Bloody _women_!"

"Alex!" Sam stepped forward, jerking out of his surprise. Apparently, introductions weren't needed then. "Don't! Stop!"

"And that bloody Jenette!" Alex complained, no longer shouting but giving Gene a final shove for good measure. "All the blood from your brain just rushed down your trousers, didn't it?! You..." She threw her hands in the air, searching for a word, "troglodyte!"

"Phyllis!" Gene barked, ignoring the attractive flush to the lunatic in front of him. "Come and get rid!"

"This is all your fault." Alex ignored him, determinedly. "Why couldn't you trust me? I know what I said was unbelievable, but it's _you_ and you're supposed to believe me! You bastard!" She huffed a sigh, glancing around, annoyed at how different they all appeared. Ray without his perm. Chris without his highlights - and both of them not having a clue who she was. Her eyes went back to Gene, frustrated. "Look at you - in camel. Look at me - like I'm auditioning to be one of Charlie's Angels!"

"Hasn't come out yet." Sam interjected, apologetically.

"Raquel Welch, then - whatever!" She tried, her mind racking for someone.

"Don't flatter yourself, love."

Alex swallowed at Gene's quiet tone, a warning not to push him any further. He didn't know her. And even though she'd hurt him and he'd hurt her, she'd rather he hate her then not know her.

"Guv," Sam sighed after a moment, his eyes darting between the two of them, "she's had a hard day-"

"Haven't we all, but somehow we get on with it without an arse-on." Gene commented, his gaze still resting on her. "Nowt more to add to that little speech of yours, then?"

"Yeah, I might yell and shout - but you're..." She trailed off, looking to the floor, thinking back to everything he'd said. About her being cold, about her daughter. He knew how to hit a nerve like no one else did.

"_I'm_ in charge." The Guv went on, determinedly, Chris still munching on his sandwich and Ray's eyes not straying from her tits. "This is _my_ kingdom and you - _you_ must be going before I string you up by your knicker elastic for assaulting a police officer." He looked at her, expectantly. "Bye-bye, now."

"She can't..." Sam blurted. "She's with me."

"Am I missing somethin'?" The Guv asked the others, exasperatedly. "Is she his tasty bit on the side or what?"

"Annie won't like that." Chris insisted.

"She's not-!" Sam rolled his eyes, losing patience. "She's one of us!"

"You mean..." Chris frowned, confused, "she's got a ding-dong?"

"No Chris, I mean, she's a copper!" Sam insisted, taking a leap of faith. "Transferred here - right, Alex?"

Alex looked to Sam, questioningly. _That's how this was supposed to go, wasn't it?_ She jumped as Gene scowled again. "You are joking me!"

"Another bird in C.I.D," Ray lamented, "but we've only just got rid of Cartwright!"

"How many times," Sam sighed, "- she's on a course, bringing her up to speed with - never mind! You two should have gone on it as well if you ever want to make it to Inspector."

"Inspector..." The Guv let the word roll on the tongue; his eyes dragged back to Alex's face, things clicking into place. "Inspector Drake - that's you, isn't it?"

Ray's eyes widened in understanding. "Guv, no..."

"Temporary transfer of a Detective Inspector from Fenchurch East, London, with the potential to be permanent," He recited, giving her a good look up and down, surprised by her profession to say the least, "- _if _I'm pleased with you. Used to having a soft southern nancy for a Chief Inspector, are you? No idea why'd you wanna transfer up here but I do love a sucker for punishment. I love suckers, in general. " An eyebrow lifted, daring her to test him again. To give him a chance to put her in her place now that he knew she was one of them. But she didn't take the bait, her initial anger having left her. "Right, let's be having you."

Her eyes widened as Gene picked up her coat, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her through the doors of C.I.D. "Get your hands off of-"

"This 'ere," He announced loudly, throwing her coat on a desk and garnering everyone's attention. Sam followed through, praying the Guv would lay off the bullying, as did Chris and Ray, the latter very smugly, "- is Mrs. Detective Inspector Lady Woman Alex Drake. Any questions, lads?"

A murmur of _No Guvs_ went through the room as all the boys appreciated the new addition to their department.

"I got demoted when I landed here." Sam muttered, allowing himself a moment of petulance.

"A pleasure to have you under me, Drakey." The Guv turned to Alex, a smug smile from ear to ear.

She scowled, his pathetic display of dominance somehow making her more comfortable than anything else had today. "The pleasure's all yours."

"I bloody hope so but I think you'll find the pleasure's all mine, _Guv_." He corrected her, leaning forward. "I'm the Guv around here."

_Yes, he was_. She smiled inwardly.

"What's the lead?"

The Guv frowned, not following her."What?"

"The lead on your case," She said, not missing a beat, "- I heard you before, Jim Davids?"

"Bastard." Gene sniffed, somewhat impressed that she wasn't wasting any time."My snout says he's just opened up a bar in Oldham."

"The Cave." Ray supplied, coming forward to blow smoke in Alex's face. "Opening night's tonight. Honest Bill down the Dog and Duck says the whole thing's dodgy. Beat up the old owner and torched his house, made him piss himself scared just so he'd sell up, you can only imagine where he got the money for it."

"Bastard." Sam rolled his eyes at Chris' small contribution.

"So, what?" Alex smirked doubtfully. "We're just going to storm in, all guns blazing?"

"_You're_ not storming anywhere, Inspector." The Guv sniffed, feeling the lack of respect for him coming off her in waves. "You're gonna sit behind a typewriter and give me five hundred lines of 'I shall never again swing for the Guv if I value my life.'"

"Guv..." Sam tried, hoping they wouldn't get off on too bad a foot.

"I'm going to nick him!" The Guv pronounced. "I know he put that poor lad on the slab and now he's gonna pay."

"That's a terrible plan."

He scowled at his new Inspector and her opinion. "Are you still 'ere? Mush, woman. Typewriter's over there."

"She's right, Guv." His scowl only deepened as Tyler agreed with her. He could see it now - they were going to be as thick as thieves and he wasn't going to get a word in edgewise. "We talked about this. We can't do anything yet; we've no-"

"So help me God, if you say evidence, I will kill you."

Alex startled at that. That had been the last thing he'd really said to her. He hadn't meant it then. He didn't mean it now. She still ended up with a bullet in her, though. Gene hadn't trusted her in the end. She'd let him down, truth or no truth. _Being where the Guv is, is the right place to be._ That's what Ray had said when she'd first arrived, and he'd been right in a way. Their falling-out had let to all of this, and she couldn't afford for that to happen again. She trusted him; she needed him to trust her to.

"How about going undercover?" Alex suggested, trying to find her feet. "I could do it. He's never met me before and I'm guessing you've already made the acquaintance." She raised an eyebrow, only imagining how that had panned out.

Sam looked to her, imploringly. "Alex, you don't have anything to prove-"

"Nothing to prove." She assured Sam, willing him to be on her side, to back her up. "I've done it before. I'm a psychological profiler, I might be able to pick something up."

"I bet she could."

She ignored Ray's muttering and Gene's frown as she held Sam's gaze. Sam stared at her pensively, silently agreeing to give her a chance before turning to the Guv. "Well, he's not going anywhere. We need this to be watertight and we know it's not just 19 year old kids that he's bumping off, he's involved in all sorts. If he likes Alex, she might be able to get it out of him."

Gene snorted. "He'd get it out _for_ her, more like."

Sam looked to her again, but Alex was determined as ever. He understood it. Proving what a good cooper you are - it seemed to bring you closer to getting home and she had a daughter who needed her. "She's trained to do this, Guv."

"Funny, haven't seen her tart card in a phone box." Gene remarked, getting ticked off by how much loyalty his new Inspector was inspiring in his old one. _Goes to show that even Goody Two Shoes Gladys could be guilty of thinking with his todger_. "How, Sam? A boogie down The Cave, couple of sherries and then back to his gaff for a slap and a tickle? Don't be ridiculous, Tyler. Look at her. Airs and graces this one. Like a drop of Bolly before-"

"I'll get my knickers off?" Alex smiled, smug to see him jerk at her following his train of thought. "Very imaginative. I do know how to go undercover, you know." It wasn't her speciality, of course, but she needed an opportunity to prove herself.

"Oh, I'm sure you've been under plenty of covers, love." One more insult for good measure; she rolled her eyes. "I don't like it."

She folded her arms, expectantly. "And your better idea is?"

* * *

Gene's acceptance of her plan had been more than begrudging, but it was a step in the right direction, she decided. By the time they'd made it down to the morgue, it almost felt a little like old times, even if Ray was relentlessly eyeing her up and Chris was too nervous to even speak to her. But then she'd catch that look of suspicion in Gene's eyes and she'd remember why she was here and how this wasn't like old times at all. _Where was Shaz when you needed her, hmm?_

As they pulled back the sheet, Alex looked grimly down at the young man before her. A bullet to the head. Seeing it so clearly, she wondered why she'd ever thought there was any surviving it.

"She's not going to faint, is she?"

Gene's voice broke her reverie, his tone leaving her in no doubt that he assumed she'd be generally useless. He sniffed bored, as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"You want to talk about?" Ray smirked. "Get it off your chest, like."

"I've got a spare curly wurly going, if you're interested." Chris offered, feeling around in his pockets.

"No thanks, Chris." Alex smiled, deciding to be nice and ignoring Ray's murmur of _poof_. "I can call you Chris, can't I?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Chris swallowed, taken aback that the new inspector was speaking to him directly, "whatever you want Boss...Ma'am," He frowned, confused, looking between Sam and Alex, "- who's in charge of who, then?"

"I am in charge of all of you." The Guv snapped, fed up and needing a drink. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I'm waiting for Dr. Death to tell us the bleedin' obvious here!""

"Quite," The well-spoken doctor smiled charmingly, entering the room and making his way to the head of the body, "and it is all rather obvious, I'm afraid. Shot at point-blank range, we found this imbedded in what was left of his parietal lobe." He smiled still, passing Ray a bullet.

".357 Magnum, Guv." Ray provided, giving it the once over.

"A gunshot wound like that to the head - he didn't stand a chance." Alex sighed inwardly as the doctor went on. "There are abrasions on his skin, his arms in particular, and his wrist is broken but my best guess is that all took place post-mortem. He's a big chap, it would have taken a few men to move him and I'm assuming they didn't take much care when tossing him into the ditch."

"No, they bloody didn't." The Guv muttered dourly. "What I wouldn't do to bring back hanging."

Alex dragged her gaze away from the victim. "And you're sure his death is connected to Jim Davids?"

"Of course, I'm bloody sure." He snapped back, standing taller. "Which is why you are gonna do exactly what I say, alright? One wrong move tonight, and you could end up on one of these an' all."

She almost barked a laugh. It was looking very likely at this point. "Concerned?" She didn't bother waiting for a response, walking back out through the morgue and into the early evening. Alex sighed as she heard Sam's footsteps rush after her.

"You'll be alright. Lightening doesn't strike twice." He tried, before grimacing at what a bad joke it was. She smiled grimly; seemingly, Sam had the same idea she had. It was all over for her. "Sorry."

"It's alright," She assured him, too tired to bicker with anyone, let alone the only person who knew what she was going through, "it's just...I don't know that I'm..." She sighed, trying to make sense of it all. "I can't be dead, can I? Not after everything - before, there was so much happening, I knew when they were operating and I knew that I had an infection, and now - nothing. Silence."

"You haven't been here a day, Alex. Give it some time." Sam tried, urging her not to give up. Logically, Alex knew he was right. She might yet hear from 2008; she hadn't tried turning on a telly yet and voices were always coming out of there. But still, that feeling - that the link to her former life had been broken - wouldn't leave her. "How do you know them?" She frowned at the question. Sam nodded towards where'd they come from, clarifying. "All that stuff you were yelling at Hunt, not to mention the fact that you don't bat an eyelid at Ray being...Ray."

"I do know them." She couldn't help the fond smile. "I've been here awhile, but in a different time. A later time." Alex shrugged, helplessly. Saying too much had burnt her once before in this world - that's why she was now here -, she didn't want to run the risk of doing so again. "I don't want to say too much."

"In case it changes too much?" Sam inquired, interested.

Alex looked at him, bemused at how unfazed he now was about all of it. "You don't seem half as worried as I am."

"No, because - in this place - I believe things happen for a reason." He smiled, confidently. "You being here means something."

_Did it?_ She'd been so sure of that once. "Everything is significant."

"Exactly." His smile turned into a grin. "So maybe, just maybe, you're here to change things for the better."

A ghost of smile crossed her lips at his optimism. His idea of things sounded preferable to all the dark thoughts running through her head. "I best get ready for tonight - quite where, I don't know."

"Well, you're in luck, me and Annie have got a place together now and the lease on my flat doesn't come up for a month or so, so here," He pulled a set of keys out, handing them to her. "- it's yours. I'll swing you round there and you can borrow one of Annie's dresses, she won't mind." He gestured towards his car down the road, for her to get in. "Go on."

The smile dropped off Sam's face as she walked away, his heart aching for her. Bullet to the head. Infection. It didn't look good, but she'd have to figure that out on her own. He went to follow her, but paused as he heard a grunt from behind. Sam turned, seeing the Guv's eyes, too, following the woman who'd suddenly shown up in their lives.

"I don't know about this, Sam."

Whether the Guv was worried for her or just didn't trust her, Sam wasn't sure either way, but if everything happened for a reason, then Alex showing up when they were trying to take down Jim Davids had to mean something. "We've been chasing this guy for a long time; we could use a fresh perspective. It's worth a try."

Gene sniffed, unconvinced. "I'll be the judge of that."

* * *

Six hours later, that sniff had turned into a scowl which had turned into a moan which had turned into a full-blown tirade. Whilst Alex had gone into The Cave to search for Davids and find out what she could, the Guv had decided - to Ray and Chris' chagrin - that it would be best if they kept an eye on things and staked out the joint. Back-up, that's what the Guv had said it was. But both Alex and Sam knew that the Guv was incapable of giving up any control, least of all to some posh bird he'd just met. Now, Alex was late for the meet-up and they were getting concerned.

Well, Sam was getting concerned; the Guv was just getting pissed off. Hence, the tirade. He rolled his eyes, as Gene drank from his flask and screwed the cap on in annoyance. "Well, this has been a complete waste of my soddin' time - where the hell is she?"

"Maybe we should have wired her up." Sam finally sighed, thoughtfully.

"What the bloody hell for?" The Guv demanded, turning in the driving seat to glare at the man next to him. "You told me that she'd only be getting the lay of the land?"

"Oh, I bet she's getting laid, alright." Sam rubbed his eyes at Ray's smutty comment, one of many that evening.

He sighed again, making an admittance. "She said she'd be out by eleven; it's almost midnight."

He didn't need to look to know there was smoke coming out of Gene's ears."Well, thank you for telling me that little gem of information!" He berated, flinging the car door open. "Stupid tart - now I'm gonna have to go in there and-"

"Guv, I spot her, there!" Chris interrupted, puffing on his fag, espying a woman stumbling out of the club on the arm of some guy. "I think, she's pissed."

"She's very pissed." Ray laughed, as Alex giggled at something the man whispered in her ear.

"Women." Gene complained, feeling that to be insult enough. "Who's that with her?"

"It's Davids, Guv." Chris supplied, his eyes younger than anyone else's. "Are we nicking him?"

"For what? Copping a feel of my rat-arsed DI?" The Guv scowled, glaring at the back of Sam's head for talking him into this. "For _Christ's sake_!."

"Well, come on, then." Sam turned back to the front, as Alex made her goodbyes and began to walk off. "Alex said she'd meet us in the Railway Arms."

"How? She can't even walk in a straight line."

"Guv!"

Gene looked up, exasperated. "I'm not driving all the way to the Arms, just to get a call that there's a slutty-looking bird with a police badge collapsed outside 'ere!"

"Who are you calling a slut?" Sam protested, as Alex walked off in his girlfriend's red number. "That's _Annie's_ dress she's wearing."

"Looks better on Drake."

Sam glared at him for that, but didn't rise to it. "You can't prove yourself right if we don't go back." He said logically, before giving in to the inevitable:

"First rounds on me."

* * *

"Oh, would you look at that? Well, Sammy boy, it seems that-"

Sam grinned like a Cheshire cat as the Guv stopped mid-sentence as they came further into the Arms and all spotted Alex sitting in a booth, tapping her fingers impatiently. He folded his arms smugly, taking a moment to enjoy Gene's annoyed pout.

"You lot took your sweet time." Alex declared, getting up and sashaying past them to the bar. "Now, which one of you lads is going to buy me a drink? I'm parched."

"Haven't you had enough?" Gene's pout remained in place.

"I haven't even started." She rolled her eyes at the look of confusion that passed between Chris and Ray. "Men tend to be a little more candid and lot more forward with inebriated women who, in turn, are less quick to turn them down and less likely to remember every stupid thing they say." She clarified, as if talking to idiots. "Why do you think Ray's always trying to pull the drunk ones?"

Ray opened his mouth to defend himself, but the Guv stopped him with a look. She had a point - how, Gene had no idea. "Pick up much?" He said instead, getting back to business.

"Not a lot." Alex admitted, unapologetically as Gene propped himself up on the bar next to her. "It was opening night after all, Jim's a busy man."

"Jim, is it?" He narrowed his eyes at the familiarity before glaring at Sam again, knowing it would be a waste of time. "A night well-spent, then."

"I hope to get more out of him on Wednesday. On our date." Alex went on, unperturbed. "He wants to take me to Luddy's, wherever that is."

"A date?! On a Wednesday?!" Gene spat. Whether he was more pissed off at her taking matters into her own hands or having a date, Sam didn't care to guess.

"I wouldn't, Ma'am," Chris warned, "I don't think he's really your type."

"Is this why London wanted rid of you?" Gene said, annoyed. "Because you were too busy throwing yourself at the crims instead of banging them up?"

"Fine, I'll cancel if that's what you want." Alex held up her hands accommodatingly, refusing to riled but refusing to back down. "But then, you're going to have to do a little espionage yourselves. One of the chattier bartenders gave it away that Davids doesn't do business in his office, but rather on the roof. Hidden in plain view."

"So?"

"So," She went on, impatience creeping in, "you need to be on that roof. Or, at least, plant a recording device. How else do you expect to pin him for being a drug lord?"

"Do I look like Roger Moore to you?"

She could only wonder where he was going with that thought. "Not particularly."

"Then, would you pack it in with all this spooky-dooky crap?!" Gene complained, his voice rising. "Forget about drug dealings, I want him for _murder_, Drake." She went to interrupt, but there was no stopping him. "Tom Pooling, that kid's name was. His face has been half shot away, but you can still tell it's him - beanpole of a lad, like I was. He grew up on my street back in Lancaster- his mam gave me my first handjob - and that twatface, who you want to get your wiggly bits out for, is the reason why kids on _my_ patch, are dying. And I'm not having it!"

Alex opened her mouth to berate him - what for, she didn't know. He always complained about her getting too emotionally involved and now here he was, not looking at the bigger picture. She could go ten rounds with him but she didn't want to, not now, not today, not when their arguing had taken it all too far.

"I know." She said simply, quietly, her eyes scanning his face and coming to rest on his own, silently begging him to see sense and to not make her his enemy. "But we've got no murder weapon, no murder scene, no evidence tying Tom's death to Davids - the chances are that he had one of his henchmen pull the trigger anyway." She stepped closer, not blinking for a second. "We need a confession. A date with me - as enchanting as it would be for most men," She smiled softly at the small joke and was pleased to see a tiny smirk come to his own lips, "- won't have him confessing to all, he's too clever for that, but we'll find out what he cares about and what gets under his skin. _Then_, we can move in for the kill. If you want to make this stick, we've got to play a slow game here, Guv."

It was the first time she'd called him Guv, here in 1975, and she'd picked the right moment to butter him up with it. Ray sighed inwardly, sharing a look with Chris, as Gene nodded slowly in agreement. Losing the Guv to Tyler, a man could handle that, but to a woman - they looked too bloody well-matched and Ray shook his head to think he was going to lose his drinking partner to a pretty face.

"A drink for the lady, Nelson." Gene declared and Alex grinned inwardly, knowing it was his way of accepting her into the fold. _Unless this whole plan goes tits up, of course_.

"Sure thing, mon brav." Alex shared a smile with Sam to see the infamous Nelson make his way towards them, "What you having?"

"What do you suggest?" She asked, suddenly in desperate need of a drink. Nelson frowned, confused. "I mean, your selection of wine, what's it like?"

"You're looking at red or white, Bollyknickers." Gene snorted, getting his wallet out. "Best off getting a shandy."

Alex raised a challenging eyebrow. "I'll have what you're having, actually."

"Bourbon. Double." Gene smirked at her, but she took up the challenge:

"Sounds perfect."

* * *

Of course, many bourbons later, it did occur to her that whiskey on a rather empty stomach probably wasn't the best way to start her first day on the job, or to impress the Guv. But she'd spent the first few weeks of her time in 1981 in a drunken haze and it hadn't completely ruined his impression of her, so she gave it little thought, Instead, she drained her glass, as she tried to remain balanced on the bar stool.

"First lady Inspector in our department, but with the size of that plum in your gob, I can't think what you're doing up 'ere."

Gene seemed genuinely interested, but she assumed that vague was best for now. And as for the truth, well, that had gone down like a lead balloon last time. "Wanted a change of scenery, I guess."

"Yeah, well," He sniffed, throwing his own drink back, "you liven the place up a bit, that's for sure."

Alex blinked slowly, a flirtatious smile naturally coming to her lips. "Is that a compliment?"

"It's an observation." He smiled back. "Not every day we get a nice bit of totty to look at - or I get punched in the gob."

Alex leant on her hand, taking the time to really look at him. It was starting to come to her attention, not only how at home he appeared here, but how different he was. He looked younger. Not only with regards to appearance - in fact, looks-wise he wouldn't age that much - but here, he seemed more content, less troubled almost. As if the weight of the world wasn't on him. Or, at least, he had someone to share its weight with. Sam's death - she had no idea it would hit him so hard.

"You're different here." She pouted thoughtfully, admiring his smile - which was always so rare in the 1980s and only ever for her. "Softer."

He mirrored her, propping his chin up. "You calling me soft?" He had the good grace to feign offence, but once again, a smile tugged at his mouth begrudgingly.

She sighed inwardly, wishing he'd held on to this when he moved down to London. "You smile more, too."

More smiley and more ballsy, apparently, as she looked down sharply to see Gene touching the hem of her dress, "What is this, satin?" He frowned, concentrating. "No, somethin' else."

She barked a laugh."You're drunk."

"Hmmm, probably." He agreed, before rubbing a hand over his face, sighing to himself. "Wife won't be best pleased. Like this already on Monday - the rest of the week will be much the same."

Alex swallowed dumbly and sat up slightly, the intimacy broken between them as he wisely let go of her dress. "Wife?" She shook her head, trying to defog her brain. "You're married." She stated, didn't question. How could she forget that? _It's 1975, of course he's married_.

"You sound almost disappointed." Gene tried for another flirty joke, but his eyebrows hit his hairline to think she actually was a little put-out. He cleared his throat, awkwardly. "You not married, then?"

The question took her aback, but she answered anyway."I was, once upon a time. He rather put me off the institution." She muttered, starting to feel uncomfortable and looking around the pub. She could only imagine what Ray, Chris and the other stragglers of C.I.D thought of her now - that she was desperately throwing herself at their married Guv, no doubt. _How pathetic_. "I wonder where Sam's got to?"

"Bladder of a knat, that one." He joked again, but could see she was no longer in the mood. "You know, Cartwright's back in a few days and I don't think she'll be wanting her old man lending her stuff out to someone like you."

Alex turned to him, affronted. "Someone like me?"

"You know what I mean," Gene rolled his eyes; she'd seen a mirror, she must know how good she looked. Raquel Welch didn't compare really. "Ray's been drooling into his moustache all day. Can't say I blame 'im though."

"Another compliment, my my." She smirked at that, never awkward around him for long, before making a confession. "I, sort of, came to Manchester with only the clothes on my back."

"If that." He snorted; she glared. Sighing, Gene got his wallet out and discreetly handed her a wodge of notes. "Here."

"What?" She looked down at their hands and shook her head, vehemently. "No, I can't accept this."

"Yes, you can." She went to shake her head again, but he wasn't having it. "If I'm going to be policing these shitty streets with you prattling on at me from now on, I'm gonna need something to look at."

She raised an eyebrow at the comment. "Charmingly put as always, Gene-"

"You know, you could just say thank you."

"You two seem to be getting on better?" Sam said, waltzing back up to the bar, having watched some of the exchange. He could only imagine what went on with them before, in Alex's time. He was already dreading the hundred and one opinions Annie was going to have on the matter.

The Guv scowled, his heart not in it, but sat back, putting a bit of needed distance between them. "Bolly's only been here five minutes and she's already bleedin' me dry."

Sam smiled, knowing the Guv was more than happy to help her out, before frowning, missing something. "Bolly?"

"DI Bollingerknickers, this one 'ere!" Gene nodded towards Alex, who'd suddenly taken a great interest in her empty glass. He thrust the notes in her hand one last time and closed her palm around them. "Just take it, go on, get yourself up the high street - you'll be needing gladrags for Wednesday night, won't you?"

"Gladrags?" She asked, confused.

"Well, you said he was taking you to Luddy's, didn't you?" She nodded in confirmation. "Posh place, that."

"Is there a particular dress code?"

"Yes, lookin' good enough that the murdering bastard will want to drop trou' and tell you all his dirty little secrets!"

"It won't come to that, though." Sam interjected, seeing the look of disgust on Alex's face.

"No, it bloody won't."

Sam glanced sharply at Gene's grim expression. Determined son of a bitch if there ever was one. He looked between the two of them, again, suddenly feeling very sorry for Mrs. Hunt and a huge headache coming on.

"Thank you." Alex smiled, shyly, gesturing to the ladies'. "I'm just gonna..."

"Alright, well, then I'll show you round the flat properly, show you where everything is, how to get there from here?" Sam offered, smiling as she nodded in agreement and watching her go. She did look lovely in the dress, but his Annie looked better. God, he couldn't wait for her to come home - at least so he didn't have to deal with all of this alone.

He turned back to the Guv, frowning at the curious expression he found there. "What?"

"Why are you being so nice to her?"

"I'm always nice." Sam said, without hesitation, and more surprised that the Guv wanted to have this conversation. "And I might ask you the same question."

The Guv scratched his cheek, nonchalantly enough to fool most. "That's me being nice to _you_. Annie'll want to deck you anyway for making friends with _that_, best not to make it worse by putting her in your wife's clothes."

"Okay; firstly, Annie won't be my wife until June-"

"I'm counting the days."

"-and secondly," Sam continued, ignoring Gene's sarcasm, "you're underestimating her."

Gene shook his head. "Cartwright may have always been a smart plonk, but she's still a woman - and they see red when they suspect other birds sniffing about."

_Other birds?_ Sam raised an eyebrow, wondering if the Guv thought Sam was interested in Alex."You jealous?" Or that Alex was interested in him. He sighed, deciding not to pull on that thread. "Besides, I meant you're underestimating Alex. She did good tonight."

"She did her job; I'm not gonna give her a ruddy medal for it." Gene sniffed, gesturing for Nelson to give him a refill.

"No medal," Sam said, seeing Nelson sigh, resigning himself to never getting rid of his punters tonight, "- just a chance would do."

"Already given, Gladys. Let's see what she does with it."

* * *

Rolling over in bed, Alex frowned to see the hands on her alarm clock. 9:06. Just like her watch. Not the best night's sleep she'd had. Crappy mattress, new decade and all that. Getting up, she came to the window and saw the sun starting to come up. No messages from home. Not even a dream. It had all gone quiet and she felt ashamed to admit that her disappointment was tinged with relief. It was nice to feel normal, for once.

She looked back around the room, grimacing at the wallpaper and the little kitchenette; she didn't even want to think about the bathroom. If she was going to be here indefinitely, she'd have to find another place. One that was quite her own. Maybe she'd stumble across another trattoria renting a flat above, that'd be nice. Going to the mirror, she ran a hand through her hair, accustoming herself to the style and to her make-up. Best do a bit of early shopping before heading into work. She couldn't wear a white jumpsuit her whole life and she'd need food; Gene had given her enough money to buy a small house by the looks of things. She hoped he'd accept the money back in instalments.

_New dawn, new day, new life._ It was strange how quickly she was accepting it here. Sam was a reassuring presence and Gene - well, he was being Gene. The Guv. And she didn't want to think about how good it felt to be under his wing again.

* * *

Walking back into Stopford House in her boots and jersey dress, Alex smiled to herself, happy with her morning's work. Not only had she made some developments on the case, but she'd also put together a very respectable wardrobe, including a very low-cut black jumpsuit for tomorrow night. A princess coat, high-waisted flared trousers, wide collar shirts, waistcoats, mini dresses with long, bellowing sleeves, polo necks and bell bottoms, high-heeled loafers and peep-toe heels, chiffon and paisley, pleats and every shade of brown under the Sun. So far 1975 was her kind of year. Mary Tyler Moore by day, and Saturday Night Fever by night, or so she guessed, she couldn't remember much of the 1970s. She'd even managed to pick up a faux fox fur coat in a charity shop as a nod to her former self. She smiled at the memory of it. _All fur coat and no knickers, that one._ Ray, proving himself to be as pleasant as ever, back in the days when he had little or no respect for her.

But coming into C.I.D, Alex realised that those days were well and truly still here, as she caught Ray give his final assessment on her to the rest of the lads and Phyllis.

"-I'm telling you, she's bad news and if she thinks droppin' her drawers for the Guv is gonna butter him up, she's got another thing coming-"

"Morning, Ma'am!" Alex narrowed her eyes as Chris gulped out a hello. Ray seemed unfazed at being caught mid-speech and went back to his chair, propping his legs on the desk.

"Boys." She smiled in greeting at everyone, hoping the others would warm up to her eventually. She supposed she couldn't blame them really, they didn't know her from Adam. But she knew them - and she didn't feel up to being the outsider again. "Thanks," She smiled, biting the bullet and coming over to Chris and Ray, " - for keeping an eye on me last night. Things could have gone differently and it was good to have back up."

"No problem, Ma'am." Chris smiled, ever pleased to be praised.

"Where's Sam and the Guv?" She asked conversationally.

"Policing - that's what we do around here." Ray said, rather icily, not caring for how easily Tyler and the Guv had taken to her. "It take you all morning to put your face on, did it?"

Alex narrowed her eyes, again. She could forgive him for being a twat, but if he thought he could be insubordinate, he had another thing coming. "Excuse me, Sergeant?"

But if anything, her use of his rank just riled Ray more. "You heard me - we've already got one barmy DI, we don't another who's a tart to boot." Kicking his feet on the desk, he got up to face her, not enjoying the height she had on him. "Everybody knows joining with the women's department was the worst decision ever made for the force, and now you all get the same pay for swannin' around in your skirts and doin' bugger all." He scoffed, looking around at some of the lads who nodded in agreement, though didn't have the balls to say anything. "You birds are tryin' to get your claws into us coppers, just to climb up the ladder. Cartwright's got her hooks into Tyler," He scowled, though schooled his expression a little as Sam slowly wandered into the hushed C.I.D, "- and now you're makin' gooey eyes at the Guv. I'm a Sergeant and I've got years on you - well not years, but you know what I mean - it's a joke."

_Quite the speech._ She could hit him, she supposed, but it wouldn't do her any good. Alex looked around to see most of the room thinking the same, that detective work was not for women, not really. Well, she'd prove them wrong soon enough and they'd learn to respect her for it, but until then, they couldn't go around thinking they could walk all over her. _Poor Ray, you've just elected to be neutered._

"No, _you're _the joke, Carling." Alex said firmly, maintaining an impassive expression. "For forgetting that I'm your superior officer and can have you scrubbing cells all week if I so wished it. For ignoring the fact that having me on side is best if you want to progress professionally. For making the mistake of pissing off us _birds_ with your shitty opinion on equal pay," She smiled inwardly to see Phyllis glaring in his direction, "and for assuming that I've spent all morning doing bugger all when I've actually been going over every statement made relating to Tom Pooling in order to piece together his connection to Jim Davids." Not the entire truth, but he didn't need to know that. "You're sick of being a Sergeant? Then, buck up your ideas and take responsibility for your career instead of moaning and groaning like an old woman." She supposed he'd take insult from that. Coming closer, she lowered her voice, making sure to mean every word. "And if you _ever_ call me a tart again - or speak to any female officer in a similar fashion - I will be kneeing you in the groin. As hard as I can and on a very regular basis, until your balls are so black and blue that they drop off." She smiled sweetly. "Is that clear, Sergeant?"

"Crystal, Ma'am." His expression certainly said something different, but she let it go, assuring everyone else with a glare that they could expect a similar punishment should they wish it.

Turning to go to archives, she turned, surprised to see Sam smiling, seemingly impressed. "I see you and Ray are becoming firm friends."

She almost snorted - they were far from being that. But during the last few months before the Guv had shot her, they'd developed a mutual respect, even admiration. Glancing almost fondly in Ray's direction as he went back to his paper, she hoped they'd get that back. "He'll learn to love me eventually."

"You're very sure of yourself." Sam surmised, wondering again how much she knew about what was to come.

"I have to be." She sighed. "I'm not sure of anything else."

"So, what you got?" He asked, wanting to pull her back from lamenting. She frowned, puzzled. "Connecting Jim Davids to Tom Pooling?"

"Well, not as much as I would like," Alex said, admittedly, "- Davids certainly knows how to cover his tracks. That is, if Davids even did it."

"He did."

Alex pursed her lips to stop herself smiling."Gut feeling?"

"I've learned from the best." He winked cheekily.

"All reports seem to suggest that Tom was an addict - his mother was very adamant in her statement." Something didn't ring true, there. She licked her lips thoughtfully, hoping to delve a little deeper. "I also get the impression that the Guv has been very...tactful with his line of questioning. I know he knows the family, but..."

Sam nodded."He can empathise, his brother - Stuart, he died an addict." He turned, surprised to see Alex's eyes widen. "You didn't know that?" He stopped himself, not wanting to sound presumptuous. "Not that you should know necessarily, I just...thought that you two were, I don't know..."

Alex took pity on him, deciding to ponder Gene's personal history another time. Today, they had a job to do. "I don't know what we two are, _were_." She almost grimaced to say it. "We didn't leave things on a good note - now I have to start again."

"A second chance - there are worse things." Sam smiled at her, his smile widening as she rolled her eyes at his glass half-full attitude. He'd made his choice and he was happier for it; for now, Sam supposed, he'd have to be optimistic on her behalf.

"It doesn't make sense." She shook her head, her thoughts back on the case. "What dealings would Davids ever have with a teenage addict?"

"You think Tom was a dealer." He grimly read her thoughts.

"And so do you."

He nodded, sighing inwardly. It was all a bit of a mess, really, and he could only imagine the Guv's reaction to his next suggestion. "You think Mrs. Pooling knows more than she was letting on?"

Alex shrugged, not wanting to point any fingers. "I doubt much pressure was applied to a grieving mother."

"So, we're calling her in?" He asked, hoping for a negative, knowing the Guv would have his nuts in a vice for this, but Alex just continued staring at him, expectantly. "We're calling her in."

* * *

"I'm sorry, love." Gloria Pooling smiled, confused, taking a drag of her cigarette."I don't really understand why I'm here. I thought I'd said all that was needed to Gene."

"You were very helpful, Mrs. Pooling," Alex assured her, her gaze still trying not be distracted by all the shit in the interview room. _It's not even a bloody interview room for a start_. "But I was hoping to clear some things up. You said that your son's been hooked on..."

"Speed." Gloria confirmed. "Since he was about fifteen."

"Hmmm, but he was able to hold down a job," Alex went on, looking back to her notes, "- as a plumber?"

"Yeah, that's right, did a lot of odd jobs for people, worked all kinds of hours - had some bar shifts, too." The older woman smiled, wringing her hands a little.

Alex smiled to reassure her, but wondered where Sam had got to with that tea. She could use his input, he knew the case and the people involved far better than she did. "Nineteen and a qualified plumber, that's quite an achievement."

"Well, I don't know about qualified but he could fix a toilet," Gloria sat up a little straighter, feeling the Inspector to be taking issue with her son, "-it's a bit late for him to get in trouble for that."

"Well, fixing toilets certainly seems to pay well these days," Alex continued, looking again at her notes, knowing Tom's situation was too fishy to go unquestioned. "Nice flat in Salford with all the mod cons."

"Mod what?" Gloria snapped, starting to get defensive. "Look, Tommy did well - he was popular."

"Popular, yes." That had been the general consensus. "And persuasive, according to his mate, Harry."

"Not Harry Barnett?" Gloria scoffed, stabbing out her cigarette. "What's that even supposed to mean? Where's DCI Hunt? Harry's probably involved in all this - I don't why you're listening to him. He's usually as high as a kite."

"On speed - like your Tom. Only Harry says that he can barely get by - says his mum's about to kick him out because he can't get a job, can't function without his fix." Alex went on, feigning confusion as to why the two boys' circumstances would be so different. "He's good with a guitar apparently, uses the money he makes busking to feed this - this terrible disease. Because that's what addiction is, a disease." And Alex was pretty sure Tom Pooling wasn't suffering from it.

"I know," Gloria said, impatient with the toffee-nosed woman in front of her pretending like she had any idea, "- my boy was sick and no one could help him. None of you lot did anythin'!" She snapped, getting up from her seat. "Kept saying you'd clear it up, that you'd stop those bastards selling this crap to kids behind the bike shed, but it didn't work, did it? Drugs always stuffed in his sock drawer - my boy's dead and now you're treating me like I'm the one who killed him!"

"I'm not trying to accuse you of anything, Mrs. Pooling," Alex said slowly, trying to calm things, "- but has it ever occurred to you that it was your son who was the one do the selling behind the bike shed?"

"You bitch!"

Alex went to respond, but both women stopped as the door flew open and Gene Hunt walked in. He said nothing, but clenched his jaw as he looked over at Alex. The Guv looked back to Gloria, whose cheeks were already stained with tears.

"Gloria, you are free to go, love." He said gently, gesturing towards the door, where Sam now stood, uncomfortably.

"Have you heard what she's been saying, Gene," Gloria put a hand to her mouth, crying, "about my Tommy?"

"Don't need to - ignore her, she's off her meds." Gene assured her, not sparing Alex another glance. Alex knew better than to say anything; she didn't want to make the woman cry, but she wasn't being honest, with herself or with the police. "You need someone to drive you home? You still staying with your sister on Dale Street?" Gloria nodded, softly. "Phyllis will sort you out - sorry, love." He said, putting a hand to her shoulder and showing her out.

But Mrs Pooling stopped in the doorway to give Alex her attention once more. "Tommy was a good boy, Inspector, and I want justice for him."

"We'll get justice." Gene assured her. "Don't worry about that."

Getting up from her chair, Alex threw Sam an irritated glance; he shrugged apologetically but didn't say anything. He barely had a chance to before the Guv stormed back in, slamming the door so hard he nearly threw it off its hinges."What are you doing, you stupid mare?!"

"What am_ I_ doing?" Alex asked, choosing to rise above the insult as the Guv glowered at her.

"You promise me Davids on a plate and instead you're trying to stitch up the victim's mam!"

"I'm not trying to stitch up anyone," Alex insisted, defensively, " - I want the truth! Tom Pooling was a drug dealer and she knows it! She knows it, but she doesn't want to face it-"

"Then why should she, Drake?!" Gene demanded, cutting her off. "A boy has his face blown off and he's the bad guy?!"

She scowled at how he was twisting things. "Why is everything always so black and white with you? If we don't have the facts, we can't-"

"I've told you the facts!" Gene went on, angrily. "David did it!"

"Well, let's cuff him now, shall we?" She threw her arms in the air, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm sure your word alone is good enough for a judge!" Alex rounded on Sam, amazed that he'd gone from being her biggest champion to trying to blend in with the wallpaper. "Is this why you buggered off to get tea, because you knew he'd hit the roof?"

"He buggered off because he knew what was good for him!" Gene bellowed. "Because he knew that Gloria should be crying over her dead son, not defending herself against you, you - _loon_!" He spat it, coming closer, losing his rag with her as she clucked her tongue at his lack of imagination.

"Tom Pooling was a drug dealer," Alex tried again, lowering her voice, hoping to make him see sense, "he probably had been for a while - who better to get kids hooked on this stuff than another kid?"

"Doesn't change anything." Gene insisted, stubbornly. "Why d'you think he got shot, eh?"

"Well, with you interrupting all my bloody interviews, I'll never find out!"

"Because he knew he was doing wrong, because he was gonna turn himself in, turn Davids in." Gene nodded approvingly of his assessment of things.

Alex gawped for a moment, incredulous. "You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"No, you don't!"

"DO!"

"Okay, okay," Sam finally stepped in, regretting his conscious decision to let them have it out, "- it's starting to scare me how similar you two are."

They both turned on him, then. Sam swallowed as Alex snapped at him."Don't be ridiculous."

"Gladys," Gene barked, "you take that back, _right now_."

Sam wiped a hand over his face, at a loss. "You both have a point, it would easier if you-"

"_I_ have a point because_ I_ am the Guv and you belong to _me_, Drake." _Again_, she scoffed at him and finally he snapped entirely, dragging her by the arm and out of the room, back into C.I.D. She tried to shake him off but to little effect. Groaning at their behaviour, Sam followed, knowing none of this was going to end well. "Enough of this soddin' nonsense - you are doing my head in! Here, sit!" The Guv ordered, guiding her to a chair and sitting her down. "I want these reports typed up by the time I get back!"

"Forget it," Alex flushed at being reprimanded in front of the rest of the team. She ignored Ray's smirking and went to stand, "I am not your secretary!"

"You're my junior officer," Gene contradicted her, pushing her shoulders and Alex back into the chair, "- you're whatever I say you are!"

* * *

By the mid-afternoon, Alex had had more than enough. The happy foursome had gone off to deal with some serial mugging case and none of the rest of C.I.D had returned since lunch. Instead, she'd been left typing up everyone else's reports, most of whom she outranked and all of whom couldn't spell for shit. Especially Chris. God, she didn't envy Shaz. She sighed, wondering what her younger friend would be doing in 1975. She supposed Shaz would still be at school. Maybe one day she'd head down to London, find out for herself.

If she ever got out of this place. No windows, no light. There didn't even seem to be a vent for the cigarette smoke; it just clung to the air like a fog. It wasn't Fenchurch and with Sam firmly established as the DI, Alex couldn't think of her purpose here, how she fit in. The excitement of this morning was wearing off fast and she was starting to feel very alone, - she glanced around the empty room - literally.

Alex jumped at the shrill ring of the telephone, but quickly picked it up, glad of any distraction.

"C.I.D, Detective Inspector Drake speaking."

"_Can I speak with DCI Hunt?"_

It was a woman's voice, but not familiar. "I'm afraid he's out at the moment, not sure when he'll be back, can I take a message?" She asked, going to grab a pen.

"_Oh, Sam ain't about, is he? Or Ray_?"

Obviously the woman was familiar with C.I.D. "No, they're with DCI Hunt as well."

"_I've had enough of this_. _It's his bloody mam -!"_ Alex frowned at the woman's frustrated tone. "_Could you remind my husband when he gets back that his mother needs taking to her hospital appointment for three this afternoon. Gene knows I can't do it, because me car's packed in_."

Alex swallowed nervously. _My husband_. So this was Mrs. Hunt.

"I would say of course," Alex tried genially, "but the chances are your husband won't be back for three." She licked her lips, looking at the mountain of reports she had yet to get through and her curiosity getting the better of her. "Why don't you give me the address?"

She could imagine the confusion on the other woman's face. She doubted anyone else would jump up to help _one of the wives_. "..._I couldn't ask you to do that; I'm sure you've far better things to do_."

"Not today, I don't." Alex assured her, pulling another ruined sheet out of the typewriter. "Honestly, it would be a pleasure."

* * *

"Mrs Hunt?"

Alex blinked to find a petite, grey-haired lady opening the door, a kind smile on her face. If it weren't for the blue eyes, she wouldn't have guessed she was any relation of Gene's. "Yes, love?"

"I'm Inspector Alex Drake. Your...your son's been waylaid," She smiled nervously, finding it odd that the Guv was ever anyone's son, "and your daughter-in-law was concerned that you'd miss your hospital appointment, so I said I'd give you a lift, is that alright?"

"Don't have much choice, do I?" The older lady smiled enigmatically, before stepping back. "Come on in, I was making a brew anyway - don't need to be there 'til four."

She nodded pointlessly following Gene's mother in. "Mrs. Hunt - the _other_ Mrs. Hunt, that is - said the appointment was for three o'clock."

"Oh, that's what I tell them so I stand a chance of making it on time." Mrs. Hunt grinned cheekily, gesturing for her guest to take a seat in the living room. "Eugene's a busy boy these days."

Alex raised an amused eyebrow. _Eugene, is it?_ "Do you need any help?"

"No, no just sit yourself down." Mrs. Hunt waved her off as she came back in with another mug. She set it down, pouring for both of them. "Here, have a pink wafer. You take sugar, don't you?"

She really didn't, but three cubes were in there before she opened her mouth. Good to know where Gene got his sweet tooth from. "Yes, thank you."

"You sound a bit posh for round here - you new?" Mrs. Hunt asked, taking heavily to her armchair. "Eugene's never mentioned you."

"New, as of yesterday."

"He must have thanked his lucky stars, good-looking lady like you. He's always been a soft touch round pretty girls." She wrinkled her nose, pleased to see - rather than blush - Alex roll her eyes at the notion.

"Then your son must find me about as attractive as the Elephant man, Mrs. Hunt," Alex informed her, "because he's no soft touch with me."

Alex frowned; there was that enigmatic smile again."You like Manchester?"

"I'm not sure yet - I'm getting my bearings. I fell out with my former Chief Inspector," She answered honestly enough, smiling grimly, "the damage was fairly irreparable, so I thought I'd start again."

"Well, it's a good job you're with my boy, then - 'cause he wouldn't think anything was irreparable; he's all about giving people second chances in life." His mother was convinced of that much. _In life_, Alex wondered. _In your other life or here?_ More questions stopped her pondering. "You came alone? No husband, no children?"

"Only an ex-husband and I had a daughter, but she..." Alex trailed off, not knowing what to say; she glanced around the room in the hopes of starving off any tears. It wouldn't do to cry in front of a Hunt.

The older woman's eyes softened immediately."You don't need to explain. I lost my boy Stuart a while back now."

It was a natural assumption made on Mrs. Hunt's part and Alex didn't want to correct her, though it killed her to ever think of Molly as lost. She prayed that her daughter live a long and happy life, whether she was ever reunited with her or not. But, for all intents and purposes, it made sense - here, in 1975 - to let people believe what they wanted. Molly didn't exist here and she was better pleased to talk about someone else's child than her own."Oh?"

"Yeah, to drugs, unfortunate business that - I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy." Mrs. Hunt confided, empathising with Gene's new DI. "Moved down from Lancaster after that, too many memories - I think Eugene wanted me about, too, so I didn't have to worry about getting to hospital appointments on my lonesome and yet..." She sighed, tutting affectionately.

It didn't take too long to get to the hospital. In fact, the whole thing was an eye-opener, showing her where Gene got his soft underbelly from. _The love of a good woman_. His mother was charming and kind, good at setting people at ease without being too nice, but one could see a determinedness there, a steeliness when pushed. Speaking to his wife and now his mother, it just brought it back to Alex that this man - this Gene Hunt - he was real. Real and so important to so many people. Sat in the waiting room with only magazines for company, she had enough time to think on it.

"Hope you've not been too bored?"

Alex jumped to see Mrs. Hunt back, smiling down at her. "Hmmm, oh no, of course not! Sorry - I was miles away."

"Doctor's gonna do an x-ray on my leg ," She scowled, looking more like her son by the minute, "my hip's been giving me so much gip recently."

"You should have said." Alex clucked her tongue, feeling rather guilty. She knew she'd seen a grimace or two on their way in. "I'd have got a wheelchair when we arrived."

"Oh love, you are sweet to worry," She smiled, but waving her off again. Alex shook her head, exasperated. "You alright to wait a little longer? They said I could give them my jewellery, but anyone could make off with it, couldn't they?" She said suspiciously, handing Alex her treasure trove. "Thanks, love."

Alex looked down, expecting perhaps a ring or watch, but was surprised to see a pendant in her palm. She frowned at its familiarity. "St. Michael the Archangel."

"You know him?" Mrs. Hunt's smile widened at her recognition. "I'm Catholic 'course, me dad's family were Irish, though he didn't like to own it - me husband wasn't so I guess I'll be buried with that. You Catholic?"

"I don't know what I am anymore." Despite recent events, she hadn't found herself turning to religion, but enough all girls' boarding schools, a compulsory Sunday school and a photographic memory had left her pretty much set as far as Christian dogma went. "Michael leads God's army, doesn't he? Triumphs over evil?"

"Aye, he does that, but he's also the Angel of Death." Alex's head snapped up at that. "Giving souls a chance to redeem themselves before it's too late." Mrs. Hunt smiled softly, no doubt her thoughts turning to her lost son, but her glare directed for her other one. "Where the hell have you been?!"

Alex turned to see a flurry of camel in white loafers - _where are the cowboy boot_s? - coming towards them. She smirked to see him bend over, breathless. "I'm here now, aren't I?" He took a breath, his eyes resting on his Inspector. "Imagine my surprise to find out my DI had decided to-"

"Honestly, I don't ask for much." Alex's smirk only grew as his mother interrupted. "I don't complain when you don't come round for your Sunday tea, nor when you only send over that wife of yours instead, but you could have remembered this, Eugene." She stared him down, despite her son having almost a foot on her. "Poor Alexandra has been ferrying me about, having to listen to me natter on-"

"It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Hunt, honestly."

Gene narrowed his eyes at her, the insult of brown nose coming through clear enough. "You could have tried the radio."

"I didn't think there was time." She shrugged, happily.

"You didn't want to do what you were told, more like." He muttered, glancing between the two women, dreading what they'd been talking about.

"Well, the whole thing was ludicrous." Alex waved him off, taking a page out of his mother's book. "I'm not a typist, Gene-"

"Guv!" He corrected her, his temper flaring.

"Oh I'm sorry, so there's a chain of command in place, is there?" She asked sarcastically, coming to stand. "You can't expect me to call you Guv when you're having me type up Ray's reports - it's not right and you know it! He doesn't have any respect for me as it is, and if you don't back me up it'll all fall apart-"

"Back _you_ up?" He asked incredulously. "What about backing me up, woman?!"

"Not this again - I do back you up, but I'm not going to accept your judgment as fact." Alex complained, "I called in Gloria Pooling because I thought you might want my perspective-"

"You mean your crackpot theories!" Gene decided. "Tyler looks positively normal standing next to the likes of you!"

Alex ignored the insult. "A difference of opinion isn't an attempt to undermine your authority, it's to help _you_ get a result as quickly as possible, but fine!" She said, shrugging as nonchalantly as she could. "You want 'yes Guv, no Guv, three bags full Guv', I can give you that."

Fat chance that would be happening - he could see it already. _She's going to be a bigger pain in the arse than haemorrhoids._ "What I want is your bony arse falling in line-"

"Eugene!"

Gene blinked back to his mother, suddenly remembering her presence. The lifted eyebrow and the glance towards Bolly told him her suspicions were raised. He grimaced inwardly. _Give me strength_. He sniffed, holding his hand out for the St. Michael, which she dropped gently into his palm. It was late, his mother knew too much and arguing with Alex Drake was starting to give him the horn.

"You better have a pint waiting for me in the Arms, Bolly."

He merely pouted, irritated, as her face lit up, pleased with herself. "Your wish is my command, Guv." She turned to Mrs. Hunt, smiling. "It was so lovely to meet you, Mrs Hunt. I hope everything goes well."

"'Til next time, Alexandra." Mrs. Hunt smiled, ignoring her son's muttering of that not being bloody likely. "And call me Dotty, please. Mrs. Hunt makes me feel like this one's wife." Alex's nostrils flared with amusement; Dotty's tone gave away how dimly she felt about that comparison.

Both Hunts watched Alex go with an inward sigh. Gene rubbed his eyes, needing a drink. "She's gonna be the death of me."

His mother only rolled her eyes; she doubted Eugene would mind all that much.

* * *

It hadn't take her long to get back to the Arms, she'd quite enjoyed the drive. So far she'd avoided a spin in the Cortina - she just couldn't imagine it would match up to the Quattro - and was already considering buying a car when she had the time. _Could do a little exploring_, she thought. She hadn't been up North much. A police training seminar in Newcastle, a friend's hen do in Blackpool, she'd had a Liverpudlian boyfriend at university so she'd been there a few times, but that was about it. It was almost starting to disturb her how quickly she was adjusting to life here, even if she didn't know her purpose. But without any connections to the real world - or _other_ world, she wasn't sure what to think anymore - she was at a loss as to what to do with her time. Foil a blag, go to the pub - that's what she'd be doing for the foreseeable future. _Might as well buy a decent set of wheels_.

Whether she should laugh or cry at the prospect, she didn't know, but Sam could see the melancholy all over her face as she came back into the Arms. So, he'd done what he thought best - bought a bottle of wine and then another. She'd lasted 48 hours without attempting to throw herself off a roof - that was one up on him - so she deserved to drown her sorrows and the least he could was participate.

So, as the buzz of a crappy Chianti got to both of them and the boys from C.I.D raised eyebrows at their new-found friendship, Sam entertained Alex with stories of cases, of old times, and of Gene Hunt. He grinned as she giggled at the idea of Hunt impersonating a landlord; it didn't surprise her that he'd got bladdered, but his type of a good time did.

"Hunt's not drunk and falling over stuff where you're from, then?" Sam grinned lazily, his words - like Alex's - already slurring over each other.

"Oh, he gets drunk," Alex confirmed, blinking slowly as she let the memories come to her, "but it's just us, in the corner of a little Italian restaurant." Her smile grew wistful, as Sam shook the last drop of wine into her glass."He's got three settings: angry, nostalgic and contently and annoyingly smug. He's a perv in all cases." She grinned again at Sam's snort. "More wine please, Nelson!"

Nelson came over, assessing the two who were both looking worse for wear. "You want a glass or a-"

"Bottle." They said simultaneously. Chin in hand, Alex frowned at Nelson inquisitively. "Sam says you're full of good advice-"

"I did?" Sam frowned, racking his brain.

"In your case file, you did. You got any advice for me?" She implored the bartender. "I could really use some."

"Nah, sister," Nelson said, setting another bottle down for them, "advice ain't what you need right now."

"Deep, isn't he?" Sam was back to grinning. "What's this about a case file?"

"Oh, well, when you..." She waved a hand, not wanting to say it but Sam simply raised a bemused eyebrow, "- you jumped, there was an investigation; I was going to write a book about you."

Sam laughed. "About how crazy I am?"

Alex opened her mouth to contradict him, but found she couldn't. "Pretty much." She smiled, taking a slurp of her wine.

"I'm flattered."

"You should be." Alex insisted at his deadpanned expression. "God, we should be studied - I'm still surprised neither of us have cracked in here. Or maybe this is us cracking right now."

"Give it time." He muttered drily. "But what with your parents and my dad..." He shook his head; after the childhood stories they'd shared with each other this evening, he was surprised either of them had managed to become productive members of society. Alex looked at him, waiting for him to say something terribly morbid. But the wine had done its job and he leant in grinning at his own joke. "- Chris and Ray might be the sanest of all of us!"

She threw her head back laughing and feeling so much lighter for it. Their giggling continued as Ray and some of the other boys heckled them to keep it down, but she didn't have it in her to care. It felt nice to have someone who - if only for one night - would poke fun at the ironies and idiosyncrasies of this world with her.

Her laughter soon ceased as someone broke in between them, leaning against the bar as if they weren't even there. She looked sluggishly up to see those familiar broad Gene Hunt shoulders blocking her view of Sam and the bar.

"A pint and whiskey chaser for me, Nelson, and whatever her Highness is having," Gene barked, before directing Sam off with the nod of his head, "- Tyler, go peel Chris off that poor barmaid, would you?"

Alex frowned at his bossiness, looking around to see Sam pursing his lips to stop a grin; the younger man smirked at her, completely unsurprised by the development. She sighed. "But I bought us a bottle-"

"With _my_ money, if I remember correctly." Gene finally looked down at her, pointedly, knowing she couldn't object. He glared at Sam again. "You two have been joined at the hip all evening - now mush."

Alex could only mouth a sorry as Sam slide off his stool back to join the lads; he didn't look put out though, only amused. It was rather irritating, truth to be told. Gene didn't need an invitation and took to Sam's seat, throwing a note on the table and proceeding to glug down half his pint; Alex could only watch him, wondering if - and secretly hoping - he'd received the third degree from his mother.

"How was your mum?"

She hid the smile as he pouted before finishing the rest of his beer. "She mostly gave me an earful - no thanks to you."

She shrugged innocently, playing with the stem of her wine glass. "I was nothing but complimentary."

"Bollocks."

"And your wife?" She couldn't help but ask; she knew she shouldn't, but when had that ever stopped her. "She didn't seem too pleased on the phone."

"She's never too pleased these days." Gene muttered, gesturing to Nelson for another, turning his attention to his whiskey. "You got no _opinion_ on that, no _perspective_?" He asked drily.

"None whatsoever." She assured him. "Your marriage, your business."

He snorted. _Also, bollocks._ He supposed he should leave it at that, somehow knowing Bolly _not _being forthcoming on her opinions would be a rare and wonderful thing, but at this point, he still just enjoyed hearing her talk. "But?"

"If I only know one thing," Alex ventured, deciding it best to be vague, "it's that life's too short." She'd gone to enough funerals and been shot enough times to know that much.

Gene nodded slowly before his gaze rested on her. She hated when he did that. He'd do it when they were alone, her bum plonked on his office desk or at their corner table as Luigi locked up for the night. It always ended up with her blushing, looking away and generally feeling about fifteen. Her mouth went dry as she looked at him, expectantly. "Me mam told me," He sniffed, taking a sudden interest in a bar mat, "- about your daughter. I'm sorry. That why you moved?"

Alex knew what he thought, what Dotty Hunt thought - that her daughter was dead - but until someone point-blank asked her that question, she'd let them all think what they wanted to. Unlike herself, Gene wouldn't pry; this would be the end of it. "More or less. I'm starting to think there's no way back, that it's time to let go." She narrowed her eyes, waiting to be accused of not making sense but he just continued pouting. Some of the stories Sam told about him, some of them didn't seem to fit. Maybe it's because she wasn't one of the boys. "Look at us - nostalgic, again. It must be me."

But like that, he snapped out of it, as he felt for his fags and had a cheeky glance down her cleavage. "Yeah, you do go on, but my ears are willing to take a bashing when my eyes are this satisfied, love."

"You're such a flirt."

He smirked at her exasperated look on her pretty face, lighting up and letting the smoke run rings round her. "Life's too short not to flirt with you, Bolly."

* * *

By the next evening, the hangover had left in peace, but the look Gene had given her hadn't. Having changed in the ladies' and making up her face for her date with Jim Davids, it occurred to her - quite embarrassingly - that flirting with the Guv after a long day's work had become second nature to her. That he was married here, well - it had thrown her for a loop. Back in the 1980s, he was always peeking down her top, at her arse, they'd even had a date or two, but he'd never crossed the line. He'd never tried to cop a feel; he'd never even tried to kiss her. And now that Alex knew that he couldn't or, at least, _shouldn't_ - Sam had suggested that Gene hadn't exactly been the most faithful of husbands - cross the line, forced her to confront the fact that she actually wanted him to cross it. She wanted _him_.

When the shit had hit the fan and Martin Summers had done his worst, worming his way between them, Alex had felt..._adrift_. Gene had been right on the money. She, too, thought they were ones, that they had a connection. It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Putting on her lipstick, she toyed with the idea that she only now wanted what she couldn't have, but she knew that would only be an excuse, a reason to ignore her feelings. She was very good at excuses. He's just a figment of your imagination; he's just a violent thug; he's nothing more than a misogynistic bastard; he only wants a quick shag and nothing more; he's stopping you from getting home. The list was endless - but now there was actually an excuse which stuck. _He's married_. And after everything Alex had been through with Pete, she couldn't be the hypocrite who went knowingly with a married man.

Even if she was in love with him.

Walking back into C.I.D she knew, objectively, that she looked good. 1970s attire seemed more flattering on her figure and this black jumpsuit was no exception. Almost cut down to her navel, she knew she'd be giving the lads more than an eyeful. But she'd still managed to look very classy, choosing to avoid some of the more garish make-up of the period. Still, as she walked in to wolf whistles and appreciative glances, there was only one man's opinion she really cared about - and he wasn't giving anything away. He just stood by his office door, hands in pockets, eyes unwavering.

"Christ on a bike."

Alex smiled as Chris blushed furiously, realising he'd spoken out loud. "Too much?"

"You're a dead knock-out." Sam said sincerely. God, she loved him - the only man who at least tried to look at her face. "You'll do great. Phyllis wire you up, ok?"

Alex bit a grin as they all let a general groan of disappointment. "Police work just your day job, is it Ma'am?"

She turned to Ray, as he made no effort to stop looking her up and down, both of them still yet to find a common ground after yesterday's argument. "Of course, Carling - gone 10 o'clock at night, I work the streets praying a dirty old punter like you doesn't start crawling the curb." Even Sam grinned at that one.

Finally, she gave the Guv her attention and prayed she wasn't blushing. She raised an eyebrow; _what do you think, then?_

Gene stepped forward, but said nothing, clapping his hand on Chris' shoulder. "Put your tongue back in your gob, Christopher, and hand me the lady's coat." Chris obliged; the Guv looked at them all expectantly before eventually scowling. "Go get in the cars then, we haven't got all evenin'!"

Watching them all shuffle out with Sam slow to follow - a smug smirk on his face-, Alex felt distinctly awkward being left alone with Gene. It wasn't a familiar experience - denial had made everything so much easier. She bit the inside of her cheek pensively, waiting for him to say something, but there he was, giving her that look again. Eventually, he broke the moment, holding her coat out open for her. Well, _his_ coat really and his clothes and shoes, it'd all been bought with money he'd lent her.

"I've got your change if you..." She offered quietly, as he helped put her arms into the fur coat.

But he still said nothing, as he put the other arm threw, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. She turned back to him, smiling nervously at how close they stood. A soft smile tugged at his lips, just for a second. "Worth every penny, Bolly."

And then he was off to his car with the rest of the lads, some of them staking out Luddy's keeping an eye on her, the others off to The Cave to do some snooping. She shook her head, closing her eyes, resignedly, a _thank you, Guv _dying on her lips. No, now was not the time to realise that she was in love with him.

* * *

"I still don't like this."

Sam closed his eyes tiredly to the anxious tapping on the wheel beside him. Parked outside Luddy's back entrance, the Guv had been antsy ever since Alex had gone in with Jim Davids. Pinching his nose tiredly, Sam glanced back to see Chris and Ray snoring from the backseat, newspaper draped over the former's face, a fag hanging from the latter's mouth. "Yeah, I wonder why." He muttered drily.

The Guv turned to him, appraising him. "Jim Davids is a dangerous bastard."

Sam gave his a doubtful look. "Question: would you be this worried if_ I_ was the one having dinner with him?"

"'Course I would - I don't want no poofter on my team!"

"She'll be fine." Sam assured him, taking the paper off Chris to have flick through himself. "Hopefully, he'll open up to her, maybe even say something incriminating. All this business with Tom Pooling's in the newspapers at the moment - people are always picking neutral topics of conversation on first dates." He said, gesturing towards page ten where the victim's family could be seen burying him in black and white.

"You would talk about some dead drugged-up kid on a first date?" The Guv asked, dismayed. "A word of warning - never let Cartwright go."

"We don't know he was drugged-up." Sam protested, absentmindedly as he went to the sports pages.

"Not this again," Gene sighed, bored at having to repeat himself to his Inspectors, "- all pointing fingers at the boy."

"She wasn't pointing..." He trailed off, knowing there was no point. "Is this because you and his mum used to be lovers?"

"Lovers?" The Guv repeated, as if he'd never heard the world before. "A five-fingered shuffle does not a lover make, son." Sam raised a sceptical eyebrow, knowing the Guv cared about the case. "Look, Gloria's had a tough time of it. First her husband dies, now Tommy - she's been having money troubles, that's why she's living with her sister."

"Money troubles? But they had the funeral today."

"What? Yes, I know - coroner let him go, we had all your much-loved evidence that we needed from the body."

"No, not that," Sam sighed in frustration, flipping the paper back to page ten and holding it out for the Guv, " - look, that's why it was in the paper again, 'cause of the funeral."

"And?"

He shook the paper excitedly. "A horse-drawn hearse, a rolls for his nearest and dearest - where would they get the money for that Guv?"

Gene clucked his tongue, looking between the paper and Tyler, realising stuff wasn't beginning to add up. And, even more annoyingly, Drake might have had a good reason for dragging Gloria in. "Shit." He cursed, turning on the engine, tearing the paper off Sam and throwing it back on to Chris and Ray. "Oi, Peters and Lee, rise and shine!" He bellowed, not waiting for them to really come to. "Out! Now!"

"Guv?" Chris asked, clearing his throat.

Sam passed them back the radio hooked up to Alex's wire. "Get in the squad van, keep listening to her transmission, and radio if there's a problem."

Ray nodded, dazed but accepting enough. "Where you going, Guv?"

"To see if old Gloria's up to a repeat performance."

* * *

By dessert, Alex could easily see how Jim Davids had got to where he was. He had an unassuming charm and natural way with people that was persuasive and attractive. All-in-all, she thought wryly, this date would be considered a success, if it weren't for the whole trying-to-pin-him-for-being-a-murdering-bastard part of the evening. But so far, her subtle prompting hadn't got her very far - nor had his. Both were trying to avoid saying too much, but surprisingly it hadn't stilted conversation. Apparently, The Cave was the only place to end a night, or so he had said on Monday; on home turf, she hoped he'd be more inclined to drop his guard down.

"So, you from London?"

She looked up, smiling from her tiramisu. "Born and bred."

Alex blushed appropriately as his gaze raked over her appreciatively. He wanted to get in her knickers - that much was obvious - but she doubted the Guv would want her taking it that far to secure a confession. "I've always wanted to go out with someone posh." He grinned.

"Is that why I'm the lucky lady tonight, then?" She grinned back, swallowing as his gaze didn't waver. "Nice pick on the restaurant, lovely ambiance."

Still, he stared at her. For the first time, she wondered if it wasn't entirely - "What is it you said you did for a living?"

She blinked, her train of thought interrupted. "I didn't, but I'm an air hostess."

"Just when I thought you couldn't get any more glamorous." He smiled, charming again, filling up her glass. "Champers?"

"Manchester's certainly more glamorous than I originally thought." She said, trying to link something in, find out _something_. "You read about all the crime in the North and it's puts you off - people need to come for themselves, see what it's really like." She admitted to him, taking a gulp of champagne.

"You thought there was a lot of crime?"

He asked it conversationally enough, but she wasn't sure it was enough to jump on. _Sod it_. "Silly southerner that I am, yes I did. Take all those muggings happening in Oakwood Park and that Pooling boy, but I suppose it can't be any worse than London, not really." She didn't hesitate over the words, kept it smooth, kept it going; they'd been talking for a couple of hours, he shouldn't suspect anything.

He snorted, pouring himself some more champagne. "Probably not the London you're used to, though."

"No." She admitted again; to get something back, you had to give something away.

"Well, I'll have to get you acquainted with the real Manchester, won't I?" Again, he was giving her an unsettling look, but she just drunk from her glass. He sniffed, leaning forward. "Mate of mine owns this place, I'll have to show you the view for upstairs."

_From upstairs? On the roof?_ Alex wracked her brain, confused. She didn't know he had connections to Luddy's; her eyes drifted over to one of the waiters, watching him as he walked past. He did all his business on the roof, that's what that bartender had said. _Shit, wrong roof_. "I thought we'd be going to The Cave, after." She kept her face blank, innocent - but why did she have the distinct feeling that she was in over her head?

He was giving her that look again.

"Change of plans, love."

* * *

"I can't believe you're doing this Gene, I buried my son today!" Gene's eyes fluttered shut at the shrill tone. "Don't you have any respect!"

Sam checked his watch impatiently, watching nosy neighbours wrap up leftovers from the wake. He sighed as the Guv stepped forward off the mantelpiece, chest puffed out. _So much for the agreed softly softly approach, then._ "I have respect, love, but I've got a police officer with her neck on the line for you, so I need you to be honest with me!"

"_Her_ neck?" Gloria asked, incredulously looking between the two "- you don't mean that gobby tart who was hounding me yesterday?"

_You mean DI Drake_, Sam opened his mouth to say, but the Guv beat him to it."The very one."

"Why are you doing this?" Gloria asked, looking at Gene imploringly, "I thought you weren't like the others-"

"Others?" Sam frowned.

"Coppers," She near spat, "you're all bastards - wouldn't leave my poor Tommy alone."

"Yeah," Gene stepped forward, his voice low, "and you know why."

Gloria blinked furiously. "He was a junkie-"

"He was a dealer!" The Guv roared, having had enough of this shit and ignoring Tyler's glares for not having said anything sooner.

"How did you pay for the funeral and this wake, Gloria?" Sam asked, bringing the conversation back on track.

"Piss off." She spat.

But the Guv wasn't having any of it anymore. "Answer the man's question!"

"Mr. Davids helped us out." She admitted defiantly, trying not to flinch under Gene's glare. Sam's eyes widened at the implications. "Tommy did some shifts down his old place, was gonna do some more down The Cave. He's always cared about Tommy, always said hello if you passed him."

"Jim Davids," The Guv corrected her, clenching his teeth, "is the reason your son is dead."

"My son was doing fine until your lot convinced him to be a Judas!"

"A Judas?!" Gene scoffed, looking at her like she'd lost her mind, "- you mean do the right bloody thing!"

"I don't care about what's right - all I cared about was my son!" Gloria almost shrieked, sobbing. "So many messed-up ways to die in this city and Davids protected him, never let anyone cross him - and then coppers keep at him and at him, saying you could protect him too, protect him _better_, if only he'd help you blow the whistle on Davids' drug racket!" She scoffed. "Only you can't protect no one for shit, can you Gene?!"

"Blow the whistle..." Sam said, as his mind fought to catch up "- what division was in charge of that? Why didn't anyone tell us this?"

"'Cause I told them where to shove it when they wanted to take over Pooling's case." Gene grimaced, before glowering at Gloria a final time. "What the bloody hell have you been telling Davids?"

"To look out for you tossers."

"I think you'll find you're the tosser, Gloria," Gene grinned humourlessly. "Your couch, 1949, best moment of my life up 'til then."

* * *

In hindsight, Alex should have avoided going on to the roof. She should have coaxed him to stay on the ground level where there were lots of diners and back-up could get to her quickly. _On the roof? Not a good plan. _

But she'd been so determined to get on with things, to quickly prove to Gene - this Gene, here, who didn't have a clue who she was - that she was a good copper, a brilliant copper, not just some dozy tart or a bit of skirt distracting the lads from doing real police work. 1982 had ended with the Guv having lost faith in her and Alex wanted that faith back desperately. Which is why she decided to have Davids ask her out, which is why she was wearing a wire and was trying to get a confession, even though there was no likelihood of that ever happening.

She should have gone by the long road - pushed Gloria for more answers, investigated Davids more thoroughly. She should be amassing evidence and putting a case together, not pushing for a quick collar to impress the Guv and gain his trust. Even if his hunch was right, more digging needed to be done before she waded in, flirting with the main suspect in order to get what she wanted.

And his hunch was right, Alex thought grimly, as she pulled her fur coat tighter around her and looked anxiously down on the roads below. She didn't like to think why he brought her up here. _No one will hear me if I scream. _

"It's a beautiful night."

Alex smiled; even though she was sure he smelt a rat, she couldn't give her hand away.

"Beautiful night for a beautiful bird, makes sense." He smiled back, coming to rest beside her and look out onto Manchester, lit up like a Christmas tree in the night sky. "D'you know, Alex, I knew you from the moment I saw you - propped up at my bar, there was something in those peepers of yours." She turned to him, raising a curious eyebrow. "Like you _knew_, that none of this is real, not really. That it doesn't matter what you do in this life - just got to do what's right for you, only way to live."

She peered back out at the view, considering all the double meanings of what he said. Did they all do it on purpose? Who knows, who _cares_. This world was real enough to her and the only way she knew how to live was by doing her best, by helping people, by being a good copper "I don't believe that. And this is real, real enough for me - it's _all_ I got." She smiled sadly back at him, hoping whatever was controlling this - be it her subconscious or something in the cosmos - took note. _Don't let me die here, too_. She thought back to the warmth of Gene and the Railways Arms. "Life's too short to think any differently."

"Oh, life's too short, alright." Jim agreed, sniffing dismissively and stepping back away from the edge. "Look at Pooling's mam, she knows I'm not squeaky clean, knows I might even be involved in why her boy's dead but all she wants is for someone to care, and I can do that." Alex turned to him, cautiously; with the knowing smile on his face, she knew she'd been caught out. "I don't mind shelling out for the funeral of a boy who needed putting in his place, least I can do. No one else cares so that's what I'm here for." She tried not to flinch as Jim stepped closer, rubbing her arms as if to keep her warm. "I would have cared for you, too, Alex."

"Would have?"

"All coppers are bastards, she says," He grinned slowly, "- bastards and one posh bitch. Not many of those up 'ere."

She raised an eyebrow, ignoring her nerves. They were just dancing around it now. "So, I'm the posh bitch?"

"Well, I had to investigate, didn't I?" He smiled in greeting, as three men stepped from the shadows to rest behind her. Alex decided not to give them her attention, but chose to remain calm. She might be able to take one down with a right hook, but that was about it. They'd soon overpower her. "Didn't look good when I sent the boys after you on Monday, to check you got home alright, just to find out that the Railway Arms is your local boozer."

"Needed a drink." She answered succinctly, again not letting her eyes stray from Jim's as he took out a gun from the back of his trousers and checked it. "Never know when I've had enough."

"I think you've had enough."

"Nice line." She quipped, enjoying the annoyance on his face as she barked a laugh. Well, if he was going to shoot her, she might as well got what she came for. "You use that one on Tom Pooling before you shot his face off?"

But Jim side-stepped it, getting increasingly irritated by her lack of reaction. "A nice-looking bird killed doing a man's job - not good for the GMP, is it?"

"Worse for you, though." She smiled sweetly. "Jim Davids, the cop killer - they'll lock the door and throw away the key."

"Take off your coat." He ordered, finally pointing the gun in her direction. She glanced at it: a Colt Python. Ray had droned on enough about guns for some of it to sink in. Colt Python - they took .357 Magnums, didn't they? She tried to remember what Dr. Death had said, no not Dr. Death - what was the pathologist's name? _Everything is significant_. She inwardly took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm, to ignore the gun.

"What for?"

"Take it off." He flicked off the thumb safety, and so she did as asked and threw her coat to the floor. "Now, that."

Alex blinked, the cold winds this high already blowing around her. _He has to be joking_. "You should have bought me another glass of wine if you wanted a striptease, Jim."

"I won't ask you again."

Bloody men holding guns, always ordering her about. He wanted to what? Get a glimpse of what he was missing before he put a bullet in her? _Sorry, Jimbo - you can forget it!_ "Good!" She snapped, losing her patience and sick of being told what to do. "Do you this scares me, Jim? Being held at gunpoint is very boring - so is being shot, actually." _Done that, got the tee-shirt_. "So if you're going to shoot me, I wish you'd get on with it."

Jim frowned, his own patience waning. Alex didn't suppose he was used to much backchat - Tom Pooling, like the other teenage dealers who'd threatened to dob him in, had probably been begging for his life and crying for his mother. "Don't push me!" He shouted over the wind, waving the gun angrily.

She shook her head, almost bemused that she'd ever described him as charming; he was losing his appeal fast. "Clothes or no clothes, you're going to kill me and I'd rather have my dignity intact, thank you - because it's Manchester, it's March and it's bloody freezing!" She shouted back at him before laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. "It would have been nice to see how you're planning on pulling it off, though - you can hardly just roll a corpse off a roof." She tried for the confession one last time. "I suppose Tom got a bit of scrubland in the end, did he?"

"God invented the abandoned car park for a reason, love - perfect place for me to finish him." And there it was, even if she was going to die for it. "Hold her down."

Suddenly remembering the men behind her, she pulled her arm away as one went to grab her elbow. "Touch me and I'll break your jaw."

"Defiant to the last." Jim sighed; it really was a pity. They'd had such a lovely date. "A girl to break your heart over."

And then it all seemed to slow down, the three men went to circle round her and Jim's finger itched over the trigger. _Not again_. She sighed inwardly: life was too short not to fight for it. Socking the men to left in the jaw, she felt another grab her from behind.

Then, Alex heard shouts and a roar, as men in camel and leather seemed to rush from the sides. Elbowing the man in the gut, she almost laughed with relief to see Ray, Sam and even Chris hold their own against Jim's lapdogs.

Well, _almost_ laughed before someone tugged on her, dragging her backwards to his chest. She swallowed; she could feel the cool metal of the gun to her temple. And then the Guv came into view, gun trained on the pair of them, like he was bloody Gary Cooper, as Jim dragged he and Alex to the roof's edge.

"Let her go, Jimmyboy."

A black coat, that Irish bitch mouthing off - it was all starting to look very familiar. But God, she hoped the same pattern wouldn't hold true. She tried not to gasp, as Jim's fingers dug into her waist, the fear radiating off of him.

"Sneaky bastard!" Jim spat. "Throwing a woman at me - this isn't how you lot do things!" She flinched, the gun pushing further on her skull. This whole operation wasn't the Gene Genie's style and Davids felt he'd been had, been taken for a mug. A risky way of catching a murder - but would it pay off before he murdered again?

"Never let it be said I can't move on with the times," Gene quipped, coming forward as Jim kept stumbling back, "- now let her go before I put a bullet in your head like you did Tommy's."

"Gene!" Alex gasped, her eyes begging him to tread carefully.

"Someone has to push this stuff Hunt," Jim insisted, his expression growing more desperate as the others finished knocking out his men and cuffing them, "someone has to make a profit - might as well be me!"

Alex's eyes were on Gene; she could see him weighing it up, worried he was going to shoot her. "If you shoot me again and I end up in 1966, I will never forgive you."

"Good year, that." Gene glared at Bolly to shut up. _Bloody woman_. "Won the world cup - long overdue."

"Guv..." Sam warned, as he sensed Jim coming to a decision.

Alex gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and dropping to the ground as she heard the gunshot. For a moment, she wasn't sure who'd done the shooting. If it had been Jim and she had a bullet in her head. Or Gene had buggered up again and she had one in the gut.

But taking a deep breath, Alex forced her eyes open, squinting as she saw Sam rush to her aid, smiling with relief as he helped her up. Coming to her feet, she watched the Guv stroll up beside her, holstering his gun to peer over the edge. She followed his gaze; there lay Jim Davids, on the road, pedestrians already screaming around him, a body of broken bones.

The Guv glanced at Bolly admiringly."A girl to break your neck over."

"Did you get him, Guv?!" Ray asked, somewhat breathlessly as he and Chris ran up to peer over too.

Alex sighed; it wasn't the best outcome."I'd rather have arrested him."

"Not my bloody fault!" Gene defended, as she gave him a look. "He threw himself off to avoid the bullet - pillock!"

"D'you think he meant to do that?" Chris asked leaning further over; Sam pulled him back. _Better safe than sorry._

Alex did laugh then, a whole night's tension running away with it. She lived to fight another day, at least in this world and that'd do. She smiled in thanks to Chris and Ray as they walked off to explain the situation to uniform who were bounding in. Smile still on her face, she looked back at the Guv. "You didn't shoot me."

If he was insulted by her surprise, Gene didn't show it. "Self-control, Bolly. But I can't say I wasn't tempted."

"How did you know I'd be here?" Alex asked, still amazed that they'd got to her in time.

The Guv sniffed, passing Bolly her coat. "A waiter is rather chatty when you've got his face hovering over a hot stove."

Alex narrowed her eyes, knowing there was more; it didn't explain why they ran in knowing there'd be a problem. Davids could have been showing her the view, for all they knew. "Gloria Pooling said that she'd been speaking to him," Sam supplied, giving the Guv a not particularly apologetic glance, "that she'd told him that you were a copper."

The Guv rolled his eyes as the smug look settled on his new Inspector's face. "You talked to her, then?"

"Need I remind you, I just saved your life?" He complained, again - he could see a lot of complaining in his future.

Surprisingly, Alex took the hint and held up her hands, dropping it. He'd managed not to shoot her. A definite win. Then, there was that appraising look from him again. She sighed. "What?"

He pouted thoughtfully, before coming to a conclusion. "You're a tough old bird, I'll give you that-"

"Little less of the old, thank you." But he went on, ignoring her.

"-Looks like you're here for the long haul, Inspector."

Alex looked up at that. _The long haul_. Whether that was a good or bad thing, only time would tell. But for now, it would do. She'd proven herself to him this evening - how, she didn't know, - but whatever she'd done, it was enough to get his begrudging respect . Maybe they were the ones, after all. "It appears so." She smiled gently, supposing one good turn deserved another. "Thanks, Guv - for coming to my rescue."

Gene grinned to see her smile turn into a grimace. He doubted she liked being rescued much, but if the job had to fall to one poor bastard in this city, the Guv was glad it was him. _Maybe_.

"Pleasure's all mine, Bollykecks."

* * *

By the time they'd got back to the station and she'd showered - the facilities at Sam's leaving a lot to be desired - exhaustion was starting to set in. It had been a long bloody day. The day hadn't ended in a collar, but at least they wouldn't have to worry about Jim Davids anymore. No doubt they'd be some enterprising bastard quick to take his place. But for now, a lumpy bed and a dreamless sleep awaited her.

Walking down the station steps, she breathed in the cold air and tried to clear her head. It smelt like it was going to rain. She came to a stop as she heard a now familiar voice call her name.

Sam: she wasn't sure how she ever coped without him.

"I'm surprised the Guv didn't offer you a lift home." He smiled, hands in pockets against the biting chill.

"He did," She smiled back, knowing he was worried about her, "but I thought I'd walk, clear the cobwebs."

"Don't be silly," Sam admonished gently, " - this time of night, not a good idea, even if you have cheated death today." He joked. "Two days in and you've already been shot at. Impressive stuff."

And what a two days they'd been. She took another breath, glad to be breathing and feeling very tired. The Guv was right; she was in it for the long haul.

"Two days in," She repeated, her tongue hitting the roof of her mouth, "- and not a peep. Silence."

He sighed at her dejected expression. "Give it-"

"Time." Alex shook her head, resigned, accepting. _It's time to let go_. "I don't have any more time, Sam." He frowned as she showed him her watch. "9:06, on the dot." It didn't make sense to him, but somehow it did to her. "I'm like you now, in _every_ way. I'm dead there, too."

Sam wanted to say something reassuring. He sensed that, despite everything, she'd give everything to go back to their world, but it didn't matter. It wasn't his world, not anymore - and he doubted it was hers anymore either.

He nodded slowly. "...yeah, yeah, I think you might be."

Her breath hitched as a thousand emotions assaulted her. Part of her heartbroken, part of her relieved, part of her desperate, part of her angry, part of her happy that it was over. Part of her left with a little girl, who was sitting in a hospital waiting room, crying in the arms of her godfather.

_Molly._

"My baby..."

Sam sighed, bringing his arms around her as Alex started to cry her heart out. "Hey, hey - come on now, she's safe and you're needed here," He brought her back, cupping her face, "you'll be alright, we're in this together you and I-"

"And there was me thinking it was you and_ I_ in it together."

Alex and Sam turned in surprise at the other voice. Sam dropped his hands and went to smile, so pleased to her, but frowned as he took in her expression, realising what she must be thinking.

"Annie, she's just..." He glanced at Alex apologetically, but looked back only to see his fiancée walking away. "Annie, wait!" Sam went to follow, but cursed, not wanting to leave Alex in such a state. "Shit. Sorry, I have to..."

"Go, go to her." Alex told him, wiping away the tears from her face. He wavered, but she smiled encouragingly. The smile only crumbled as he run after Annie.

_Annie Cartwright - not the best of introductions_, Alex thought wryly, coming to sit on a step before she could face the walk home. And on that step, she let herself cry for herself, for her old life in 2008, for Evan having to pay twice for the same mistake, for him having to comfort another little girl, for all the years stolen from she and her daughter, even for the years stolen from she and her mother. But most of all, she cried for Molly - and prayed to anyone out there listening that her baby would be loved and happy.

And then, when she was ready, Alex picked herself up and went home.

**TBC...**

**Alone Again (Naturally): Gilbert O'Sullivan**

* * *

_So, that's the first chapter, hope you managed to get through it - please, please review! The song title at the end is just what I imagine it ending to, because the music of the shows is half the fun, hope you enjoyed it!_


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's the next chapter, glad to hear people are enjoying it. Without reviews, I probably wouldn't go on with it if nobody was reading but it's good to know you are. I can't promise the chapters will be out straight after each other, because they're so meaty, but I try to put them out as quickly as I can. Anyway, here's chapter 2, let me know your thoughts!**

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

_I know why you're here, Bols. You only had to ask - same reason as me._

_You and me, Bols, we're a team. Fighting the rot together._

_You see, that's your problem, Bols. Always got a question. Meanwhile, there's a perfectly good bottle of shampoo- _

Alex sat up in the bed; she could almost hear the cork of the champagne bottle go off. Having cried her heart out last night on the station's steps, she'd hoped exhaustion would make for a restful sleep, but she still felt tired. It was difficult, realising that she was having to start again in this world, that the relationships she'd forged with the team were needing to be rebuilt from scratch. She could see the men that they were to become, but Alex knew she had to appreciate the differences, too. Chris was so unsure of himself, yet to flourish, yet to meet lovely Shaz, but perhaps she was here to make sure he didn't stray from the path, as he did in 1982. Meanwhile, Ray - lewd as ever - had a quiet confidence in Manchester; he knew how things worked here, how to behave. This world still belonged to the Rays and the Guvs, the police maintaining a respect and trust, and being able to get away with a hell of a lot more.

_The Guv_. Her night had been filled with thoughts of him. Two years, gone like that - she felt like the rug had been snatched from under her. They'd had a rapport from the beginning; she wasn't stupid - she knew Gene fancied the pants off her. In 1975 and in less than a week, Alex was aware that she had his attention and that these last days were easily the beginnings of a beautiful friendship, to quote a classic ending. And yet, she was scared. That it wouldn't be quite the same. Of course it wouldn't - he was a different man here and she wouldn't ruin things again by telling him she was from the future - but Alex was nervous to see whether that would be a good or bad thing.

Throwing off her blankets - the duvet yet to be a favourite - and shivering against the early morning chill in only her bra and knickers, Alex resigned herself to never getting back to sleep. She glanced at the clock. _8:15_. Shit, she needed to get ready for work. It was funny, really; the moment she'd accepted that 9:06 for what it was, time had gone on just as before. It was odd, that.

It was also odd, she thought as she pulled back the curtain a little, that the tramp who'd pointed her in the right direction had suddenly become her personal bodyguard. Michael, that was his name - sleeping on a bench in the cold. It might be a coincidence, but she'd long stopped believing in those. She felt as if he had a bigger part to play in all of this, but for some reason, it didn't worry her. She wondered -

_You see, that's your problem, Bols. Always got a question._

Alex rolled her eyes, letting the curtain fall. She did always have a question - and that was her problem. Despite having a head start when she'd fallen into the world of Gene Hunt, she lacked the confidence Sam had in it, in everything. He decided to have faith, to trust. He chose to put aside his doubts whilst she'd been stupid enough to put her doubts on tape. And now, here she was, paying for them. Best get on with it, then.

"Ma'am?"

Alex frowned at the knocking on the door and glanced at the clock again.

"Ma'am, it's WDC Cartwright - can you let me in?"

_Annie_. Alex swallowed as she unlatched the door, hoping Annie wasn't planning on hashing out what she'd seen last night. It had all been perfectly innocent, obviously. Sam was the perfect gentleman, or at least seemed to be; it wasn't hard to shine by comparison in C.I.D. But she didn't feel in the mood to explain why she'd been bawling her eyes out. The loss of Molly - for she couldn't ignore her gut any longer, Molly _was_ lost to her - was very fresh; the wound needed time to heal over before she could pick at the scab.

She blinked, watching as Annie forced an awkward smile to her face, her eyes surprised to see the Inspector standing there in only her undies. "Armed robbery's going off on Hilton Street," Annie said, hovering at the door, "Guv'll be swinging round for us in a minute."

"Oh, right." Alex said, a little dazed, allowing Annie to come in. Walking back to her closet, she pulled out a pair of red bell-bottoms with a white shirt to tuck in.

"Sorry, I'll let you-" Annie offered to leave.

"No, please." Alex waved her off, trying to smile and prove she was friendly, not a homewrecker. "Are they robbing a bank?"

"Post office. Sam's worried they might take hostages." Annie replied, conversationally enough. "Normally, it'll be the Guv - and he's not scared about breaking that door down, so you might..."

"Want to wear pyjamas?" Alex ventured, the smile coming more easily to her. Popping on some loafer heels, she rushed to the mirror to put on a little make-up. As she did her mascara, she could feel Annie loitering next door, unsure of what to do with herself, on the cusp of saying something, but Alex didn't push it. It wasn't until she was on her lipstick, that Annie finally stuck her head around the bathroom door.

"I'm sorry." Annie blurted. Alex raised an inquisitive eyebrow - _that_ wasn't what she'd expected. "About last night. Sam explained everything - how you're new, the day you lot had, about how you've just lost your-"

_Daughter_. It went unsaid. Alex swallowed uncomfortably before settling on a reassuring smile. "I completely understand - I would have thought the same."

Happy to leave it at that, Alex passed Annie back in the main room, pausing to put on some hoops and gather her keys, wallet - hating to take a bag - and her coat. Now was too early in the morning to start thinking about her daughter. She'd only cry and seeing as that was just about all Annie had seen her do, Alex thought it best - for her professional reputation, at least - if they left the heart-to-heart for another time. Still smiling she held open the door for Annie: _shall we?_

Coming out on to the street, Alex kept her eye out for Michael, but he'd disappeared. _Never mind,_ she smiled to herself, _he'll be back. I'll get answers then_. She turned back to Annie, surprised to still see the awkward smiles and uncomfortable glances. She clearly had more to say. Alex kept her face open, inviting. Making friends in this world had never been her strongest suit. She doubted she'd have crossed paths with Chris and Ray if it weren't for work - which all their lives revolved upon - and so far, the former remained timid and the latter openly hostile. Sam had been a shoulder to lean on in the last few days, but seeing Annie's reaction last night, Alex was wondering if that was entirely appropriate. Being good friends with a man - there were still sceptics in 2008, let alone 1975. Anyway, she should try with Annie; she'd cherished her friendship with Shaz. Even Alex Drake could admit to wanting a girly chat now and then. But Shaz was such a modern and bright girl, maybe Annie was different. _Maybe she's Gene Hunt in a frock._

"No, really, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."

_Or maybe not. _Alex sighed affectionately at the younger woman's second - and very unnecessary - apology. "You're not like the others, are you Constable?"

Predictably, but blissfully, Annie took that as the huge compliment it was. "It's amazing, Ma'am," Annie smiled breathlessly, annoyed that things with DI Drake had got off on the wrong foot when here was such a golden opportunity, "- how you're an Inspector and, you know, I did psychology at university so I," She blushed, hearing herself, " - sorry, that sounds pathetic-"

"Not at all." Alex tutted at such a thought.

Annie blew a breath, feeling the nerves that she'd had since she knocked on the door dissipate, "I guess all I'm saying is that - I want to learn from you and I want us to get on, that's all."

Alex nodded, pleased to think there may be yet a few girly chats in her future. "That sounds like a plan to me."

"But call me Annie - if you want."

"I will." Alex smiled kindly, but her words were almost lost to the sound of the Cortina hurtling down the road and screeching beside them. Both baulked to see him brake so close, but neither were surprised. Nor were they surprised when the Guv's head poked out of his window and he started yelling at them.

"An armed blag's going on and you two are having a mothers' meeting - get in the car!" Alex frowned, as Gene bit a chunk out of an apple. She couldn't remember him ever eating fruit. He glanced at the apple, then her. "You want one?"

She shook her head, bemused, as Sam got out on the other side. "Where are Ray and Chris?"

"Probably already cracking skulls without me, lucky bastards," Gene complained, "- _get_ _in_!"

Alex's mood lifted to see Sam lean over the car's roof and send Annie a hopeful smile."You two alright now?"

"Tyler!" Gene shouted, irritated that he was having to to and fro between them all, "stop being a Dorothy and get your arse back in this car!"

"I thought I'd get in the back," Sam ventured, leaning down to talk to the Guv, "keep Annie company..." He trailed off, seeing the look on Gene's face, "- or not."

Sharing an exasperated smile with Annie, Alex opened the back door on the driver's side. "Other door!"

She rolled her eyes at yet another order from Gene. "What?"

"Easier for me to see up your skirt when I'm reversing." He replied, as if stating the weather, before throwing the rest of his apple out of the window.

Alex opened her mouth to berate him, but knew it wasn't worth it. "But I'm not even wearing a skirt."

"Start as you mean to go on, Bols." He insisted, his head jerking for her to get around the other side.

Sam sighed, pinching his nose."You've got to be kidding me -"

"It's either Bolly's skirt or Cartwright's," The Guv called out to him, determined, "- make a decision."

Alex didn't bother to hide the roll of eyes as the happy couple shared a look and then looked to her. "For God's sake." She heaved a dramatic sigh, going around to the other side.

_This is going to be a long day. _

* * *

If Gene's unrepentant smirk in the mirror wasn't bad enough, Chris' nonsensical ramblings when they arrived on the scene had her wishing she'd never answered her bloody door. Clearly, the party was over. Arrested blaggers - who all looked like they'd seen better days - were being wrangled into the backs of vans and plod were taking statements. But to look at Chris, they'd just put a stop to the Baker Street Robbery.

"- and then, I came in! You should have seen it, Guv! One of them was pointing the gun at an old woman and then, Ray came from behind, took him by the throat and-"

"Is anyone hurt, Chris?" Sam asked, trying to get his protégé to focus.

"No, not really - well," Chris shrugged before beaming again, "'part from the blaggers; we showed them who's boss, Boss."

"No more skulls for me to crack?" The Guv sniffed, assessing the scene before him.

Alex bit a grin to see the Gene's petulant expression, like a child who'd just had his favourite toy stolen. "Ah, diddums." She said, cheekily under her breath.

But loud enough for him to hear, of course. Gene turned to her, glowering. "Piss off, Bolly."

She didn't bother to hide the grin anymore. Turning away from the street, Alex closed her eyes and lifted her face up to the Sun which was now trying to poke its way through the morning clouds. She opened her eyes to see a park, swing set and everything, going on to a woodland, all set naturally against the red brick that covered Manchester. It wasn't so bad, really. It was nicer on the eyes than a grey Fenchurch East of a morning. "Nice area around here - I like the park." She commented, to no-one in particular.

"Goes right round, it's very pretty, rent's not too high round 'ere neither." Alex raised a questioning eyebrow at Annie's mind-reading; the younger woman smiled knowingly. "I know, Sam's place is a dump."

"When you two are quite finished." Gene huffed, lighting up and turning to get back in the car.

Alex sighed; he hated being left out of conversations. "I need somewhere to live and this is lovely."

"What, when the local grannies aren't being held at gunpoint to give over their pensions?" Gene snorted, shaking his head decidedly. "You're not living here, come on."

She went to scowl at his usual presumption, but stopped, sure she could hear a wailing from afar. _Sounds like a child._ Alex spun around to the noise. "Wait, Guv, I think-"

"I will make you walk, Bolly!"

But she barely heard him call as a child - of around Molly's age - came running out of a house. A hush fell over the street corner as police and residents turned in horror to see the little girl covered in blood, on her hands and her clothes.

"She's dead! She's dead!" The girl screamed wildly, unable to catch her breath. "He's - they're both dead!"

"Ssh, ssh, you're safe," Alex assured her, holding the girl in place and kneeling before her, "- who's dead?" She asked calmly, trying to get the girl to focus and steady her own beating heart.

"Me mam," The girl gasped, her scream suddenly replaced with tears as her face crumbled, "she's dead."

She threw her arms around Alex's neck, looking for comfort, and Alex held her just as tightly, her heart breaking for her. A dead mother. God, did she know the feeling, having had the misfortune to experience the loss twice. And now somewhere, Molly would be throwing her arms around Evan's neck, lamenting the same painful truth. _My mum's dead._

The mother in her fighting for room whispered assurances into the girl's hair_. It'll be alright. I've got you._ She glanced up to see Gene making his way over, his face giving nothing away, but his voice grim.

"You still wanna live round here, Bols?"

* * *

"Male in his early 40s, multiple stab wounds to the torso, cards in his wallet identify him as Michael Vine." Chris stated for the benefit of C.I.D, his eyes flicking continuously back down to his notes. "Woman in her late thirties, broken neck - she was found at the bottom of the stairs so we're guessing, you know," He shrugged, looking to the Guv for a contradiction but he said nothing, " - she fell down them." Gene sighed loudly. "Her name's Christine Withers, lived in the house with her daughter Robin, aged eleven, and son Craig, aged fifteen."

"Divorced?" Annie asked, looking down at her own notes.

"No, recently separated though." Ray contributed from his chair, dragging on his cigarette. "Threw her husband Carl out before Christmas according to the neighbours, they'd had plod in a few times - gets his fists out after a few pints, apparently."

"Shocking that." The Guv deadpanned, standing up from his perch on a desk. "Right, Ray, Chris - I want Carl Withers now."

They nodded, grabbing their coats, but Sam couldn't help but give them advice. If Alex's appearance had reminded him anything, it was that he couldn't - and shouldn't - just shrug his shoulders and write off stuff as simply being of its time. He had to help them whenever he could, to help Ray and Chris become the great coppers they were capable of being. "Tread carefully," He suggested, not surprised by the roll of Ray's eyes, "- you're about to tell a man his wife is dead."

Gene scowled at Tyler's advice. "I doubt it'll be much news to him."

_Ah._ So, the Gene Genie's gut had spoken. He'd decided Carl Withers had done it. "He's guilty, just like that?" Sam asked.

"He's a vicious bastard on the booze-"

"So are you," Sam contradicted, getting his own coat, "- doesn't make you a murderer, though."

"No," The Guv drawled, his patience being tested, "but seeing as his wife and the man who was slipping her one have been brutally murdered - the violent husband is a bloody good place to start!" He snapped to see the gruesome twosome hovering to see if Tyler was going to change his mind. "Withers now, _go_!" Watching Chris and Ray hop off sharpish, he turned to Annie, scowl still in place. "Where's Drake got to?"

"With the daughter, Robin," Annie supplied, sighing, "- she's traumatised, poor girl."

Knowing the interest Alex held for the Guv and that he'd be off to look for her, Sam took advantage of his distraction, gesturing for Annie to come with him. "Annie and I will do some digging on Michael Vine," Gene narrowed his eyes, but kept quiet. "Just because it happened in Christine's house doesn't mean the killer was connected to her." Sam insisted, going with his own hunch. All avenues needed to be explored before they could happily point the finger at Carl Withers. "Remember, Michael's the one with the stab wounds."

* * *

Walking out of C.I.D, Gene easily espied Alex Drake by the front desk, sat with a girl who looked like her world had ended. Which it basically had. His eyes softened, his hands coming to his pockets, as he was able to drink in the scene before him, unnoticed. He smiled a little wryly at the sight; it took a lot to shut up Bolly. But here she was, sitting quietly, letting little Robin Withers cry her heart out on her shoulder. Every so often, she'd put a stroking hand to the girl's head and whisper comforts against her forehead - all with the knowing of a woman who'd done this time and time again. The knowing of a mother.

Gene sighed inwardly; God, he was going soft in his old age. _We don't have time for this_. Right now, Bolly was his Inspector, a police officer - and here she was, proving why all the lads, barring the Boy Wonder, thought women were best off as plonks offering a bit of tea and sympathy. She'd assessed the murder scene with them, but then wandered off to find Robin a change of clothes. Too quickly, Alex had offered to take the girl back to the station rather than help collect statements or talk to the coroner. _To be fair, the girl's clamped on to Bols like a limpet_. But Gene knew that - if it had been anyone else - he'd have ordered her to dump the crying kid on plod or on the social and get on with her bloody job. _Yeah, definitely going soft._

"Bolly."

He called softly enough, but his gruff voice still made them both jump. He watched silently, as Alex assured Robin_, I'll be right back, Phyllis is here, it's okay_. Her expression was downcast, but he was encouraged to see she wasn't acting too much like a woman by getting all emotional.

"How is she?" He asked, dropping his voice.

"In shock. Upset, scared." Alex sighed, her eyes drifting back to the poor girl. "I've managed to get most the blood off of her - her dad was already dead but she tried to save him anyway."

"Not her dad." The Guv corrected. "Mum's bit on the side, it seems."

"Oh, I assumed..." Alex trailed off, disappointed that Robin hadn't been particularly forthcoming. "She just wants her brother. He'll still be at school, but I promised I'd pick him up after, go for ice cream or something," She sighed to see Gene's irritation, but there was nothing for it. At this point, Robin may be their only witness. "Hopefully she'll open up more away from the station, tell us what happened."

Gene nodded slowly, yet rather reluctantly. For a brief moment, he'd been thinking two Inspectors would be a good thing - two brains better than one, or whatever they say - but he was realising that they were simply twice the headache. _Tyler's off chasing dead ends and Bolly's going for ice cream - in March._

Suddenly, Robin got off her chair and came to Alex, pressing her face to her side to hide a new onslaught of tears. Alex looked to Gene, pleadingly. He understood the implication. _Have a heart, Guv._ Sighing, he bent down, waiting for the girl's attention.

"So, I hear Bolly's taking you out for ice cream?" Robin nodded, sniffing against her hand. Alex smiled, bemused; the Guv's deep northern voice had a way of soothing that hers did not and it always left a young girl enraptured.

_Bye, little lady. Any problems, just call the Gene Genie._

"Raspberry ripple's my favourite - always has been." Gene sniffed, nonchalantly enough. "What about you?"

"Me and Craig like chocolate." Robin answered, smiling slightly.

Gene nodded, pouting. "Fair dos." And somehow, just like that, he'd managed to stop her crying and put a bit of colour into the girl's cheeks again. Alex could only shake her head in wonderment.

"Here comes Brown the Clown," Gene muttered, quickly coming to stand as he saw a familiar face walking down the corridor towards them. "Give him your best smile, Bolly."

"Who?" Alex turned, inquisitively, watching the man grind to a halt in front of them. Tall, late 50s, smart, bearded, probably quite attractive at one time. She watched Gene straighten, his face closing off. _A superior officer, then._

"Superintendent Browning."

Gene nodded in greeting, the older man returning the gesture, his eyes skimming over Robin who still hugged Alex's side before coming to rest on Alex herself. She smiled cordially, choosing to ignore his appraising look, his attention soon back on Gene.

"I hear a congratulations are in order." Gene frowned, questioningly. Browning went on, clarifying. "In your prevention of an armed robbery this morning."

Alex's nostrils flared to see the Guv barely conceal his scowl. Though he always insisted he wanted credit for everything, she knew Gene didn't like praise at the best of times, let alone when it wasn't warranted.

Browning smirked, equally unsurprised by his Chief Inspector's attitude, but knew what would cheer Hunt up. "Although DCI Litton's team from regional aren't best pleased; this sort of thing's their jurisdiction, you know."

The reaction was immediate; Gene smirked in return. "Of course, sir. We just wanted to be on hand, should our esteemed colleagues need our help."

"Well, his squad never made it to the scene. Apparently, all their cars had blocked exhaust pipes - Worcester apples, apparently. A bizarre culprit." Browning raised an eyebrow, knowing full well who the true culprit was, but pleased to get one over another station. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you Chief Inspector?"

"Not a thing, sir. Still, they keep the doctor away, don't they?" Gene turned to Bolly, smiling almost gleefully.

Alex tried not to roll her eyes at his antics as Browning's attention soon returned to her. The superintendent looked between the pair."Hmm, I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance, Mrs. Hunt." The older man smiled charmingly, shaking her hand before patting Robin on the head. "You didn't tell me you had such an attractive family, Gene."

"No, we're not..." Gene balked, eyes widening. "She's not..." He trailed off, looking to Bolly.

Alex raised a disbelieving eyebrow; Gene Hunt and awkward were a rare pairing indeed. "I'm Detective Inspector Alex Drake, sir." She supplied, taking pity on the man beside her. "You signed off on my transfer papers."

"Alex Drake?" Browning dumbly repeated in surprise. "But you're a woman." Alex raised another eyebrow at the pause. Surely, he wasn't expecting a reply to that. Browning glanced back down to Robin, confused. "And I presume this is your daughter?"

"This is Robin Withers, sir." Gene stepped in, seeing Alex's face blanch at the question.

"Withers?" Browning frowned for a moment, before grimacing. "Oh, those two bodies..." He glanced at Robin sympathetically. "Say no more, you poor thing." And then, just like that, his pearly whites were aimed charmingly at Alex. "Well, lovely to have you onboard, Inspector. I'm expecting wonderful things from you, you know."

Alex didn't even bother smiling as Browning walked away from them - clearly, sensitive wasn't his middle name. _Brown the Clown, indeed_. "Men."

"Oi," Gene's ears pricked up at her mutter, "enough of that."

"I was only making an observation." Alex said, innocently. "You're a man, aren't you Guv?"

"Too right - and happy to prove it to you anytime, Bols." Gene smirked, before his eyes drifted back to the girl holding Alex's hand, who was watching them go to and fro with each other. He sniffed, getting back to the matter at hand. "Well, whilst I wait for Carl Withers, you go and enjoy your ice cream, but remember Bolly," She raised an expectant eyebrow, as his eyes drifted over her appreciatively, "- a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips."

"You're one for the healthier option, then?" She snorted, as he made his way back to C.I.D's door, his turn to play innocent. "Apples?" She questioned, remembering this morning, "- you're the most immature man I've ever met."

"Bet I'm not."

"Yes, you really are-"

"Not."

* * *

Standing beside the other adults, Alex indulged herself in the moment, in being mistaken for just another parent at the school gates, waiting for their children. Although, there were only a few, probably of those children who lived too far away, who couldn't get the bus - 1975 was another time, far more trusting, parents more than happy to see their children walk or bike home. Another time, but some things remained the same. _Innocent lives destroyed_. Alex bit her lip thoughtfully, as she watched Robin run to the gate and throw her arms around her brother in greeting, her tears afresh.

Giving them their distance, she could only watch as the other kids cleared and Craig was left with his sister in his arms, his face closing off as she undoubtedly told him the tragic news. There was no nice way to put it, was there? _Mummy's dead_. Alex's mouth went dry as her thoughts strayed, as they always did, back to Molly and she dutifully went to wait in the car, as little Robin Withers poured her heart out.

An ice cream parlour, apparently, wasn't an easy find in Manchester; Craig had frowned at the mere idea of it. But they'd soon found an ice cream van by a playground. Three cones (with chocolate sticks, of course) later, Alex had settled herself on a bench next to Craig, Robin's tears having again subsided enough for her to abandon them for the climbing frame. Glancing at the boy next to her - who had quickly aged from the fifteen year old who'd run out of school -, Alex watched as he kept a close eye on his sister, in case she fell, in case she called for him. With an apparently violent drunk for a father, she could only imagine how close their bond was.

"You seem very close."

She ventured gently, hoping he'd open up a little. Craig shrugged; understandably he'd been defensive since he'd got in the car."Nowt wrong with that."

"Of course, not." Alex assured him and left it at that, throwing the rest of her ice cream in the bin beside them. She saw the surprise on his face that she wasn't pushing him further, so Alex wisely kept silent until he was ready to volunteer.

"Me mam and dad are always at each other," Craig confessed after a moment, scuffing the ground with his feet, "so I look after Robin, get her ready for school and stuff."

"You're a good brother. I wish I'd had a big brother growing up." Alex smiled, pleased to see he didn't scoff or roll his eyes. She went on, testing the waters. "So, how come you didn't help your sister this morning?"

"Went in early," Craig supplied, looking back out to Robin, "- I'm in the Scouts and they run it through the school." Alex raised an interested eyebrow. "One of the teachers is the local scoutmaster; we had a meeting before our camping trip." He sniffed dismissively. "Left mam and Mike to it."

Alex frowned; it wasn't much to gone on. "Your mum and Mike, were they happy?"

"I'd thought so." Craig scoffed. _A scoff? Does he think it was Christine and Mike who argued? That they might have attacked each other? No, I'm reading too much into it._

"And your dad?" Alex said, pushing for more. "How did he feel about your mum with somebody else?"

He soon recovered, but Alex could tell Craig was taken aback by the question. "He didn't like it, not that he said anything - spineless, my dad." Alex frowned again. Perhaps this wasn't such an open-and-shut case after all. "Are we gonna be taken into care, now?"

Alex blinked, her turn to be surprised by the turn of questioning. "I thought I was dropping you off at your aunt's."

Craig smiled humourlessly. "She won't want us for long - she's got her own to think about it. But Robin," He turned to Alex serious and imploringly, "- she won't be able to cope if we get separated. She needs routine."

Alex sighed inwardly. He spoke like a parent ; Craig Withers was a boy who'd had to grow up before he was ready. "I'll do everything I can to stop that from happening. Now, I might have to ask you some more questions later on, but I'll leave it for now." Alex stood then, ready to make a move, not wanting to pressure him, knowing an ice cream wouldn't stop this from being the worst day of his life. Craig nodded in agreement, and they both put on smiles as Robin made her way back.

"Right," Alex smiled as Robin naturally went to take her hand, "let's buy up a cake shop before we head off, hmm?"

* * *

By the time, Alex had made her way to the station, she was weary. In a single day, these children's lives had been turned upside down and now it fell to her to make sense of it all. Obviously, it didn't solely fall to her; C.I.D was on hand. Although, how much help most of the men were, she wasn't sure. Alex had only begun to truly recognise the strengths and weaknesses of Terry, Bammo and the rest of the Fenchurch lads. Now she was having to start again, with men who seemed even further back in the evolutionary process and who didn't trust southerners. If possible, Chris seemed even more dippy, yet to benefit fully from mentor Sam, and Alex could already tell Ray, though a dependable copper, was set in his ways, unwilling to learn new tricks and still hated her guts. Annie was an unknown factor, but as the first woman in this C.I.D, she had no doubts that the younger woman had more than proved herself to Gene. Having read Sam's records, she didn't doubt his competency, it all suggesting he was a methodical and talented officer. And as for the Guv - he had an unparalleled instinct -his infamous copper'snous-, and though she sometimes questioned his methods, he knew what he was doing.

Well, she was glad someone did. She'd seen the looks he'd been sending her, irritated to see her morph into, as he saw it, a clucking mother hen, instead of focusing on the case and getting results. Honestly, she realised that her attentions were split - but when hadn't that been the case in this bloody place? The fiasco with Jim Davids which had nearly seen her shot (again) following a dinner date had reminded her that cutting corners wasn't a good idea. Frankly, it was high time she went with her own gut and at the moment, it was telling her that the Withers children would lead her to the truth.

But before truth, a much needed cup of tea. Walking into the canteen, she frowned at its emptiness, her frown only deepening to see Annie at the hot water urn, making tea for God knows how many.

"That poor kid get home, alright?" Annie asked concerned, as she noticed Alex's presence.

"She doesn't have a home, not anymore. But she's got her brother looking after her, that's something." Alex sighed, trying her hand at looking on the bright side. She shook her head, exasperated. "What are you doing?"

"Making tea for five." Annie explained, cursing as a little hot water hit her hand. "The Guv, Chris, Ray, me and you," She smiled offering, "if you want one."

Alex sighed inwardly. Shaz had offered the same countless times. A travesty - she'd deserved a place in C.I.D, displaying better policing skills than most in there and she never made it past tea lady. _Well, not this time_. Maybe Sam was right; maybe she could be here to change things for the better. "I'm _sick_ of seeing the talent of a good police officer wasted on bloody tea." Alex said decidedly. "Put the mug down and step away from the urn." Annie blinked at the order, but obliged willingly; Alex grinned, satisfied. "You and I can start going through neighbour statements - coroner's final report come in yet?"

Annie went to return the grin, her heart speeding up at the idea of doing something productive, but frowned at the last part. "Not yet, but Withers - they already got him, lived on Cheetham Hill, works on a nearby building site; Ray and Chris arrested him no problem."

Alex's eyes widened. "They've already decided to arrest him?"

"Next door said they heard a banging out front in the morning;" Annie supplied, having taken some statements at the scene herself, "it was Withers, still drunk from last night probably, - he was yelling for Christine."

Alex held her hands out, frustrated. _Well, that doesn't necessarily mean anything._ _Did anyone even see him enter the house?_ She scowled - _figured Gene would take two and two and get five._

"It's not looking good for him." Annie sighed. "But I still don't think they should be..." She trailed off, uncomfortably.

It took a moment, but Alex got the picture. The Guv had decided it was Withers and now he was going to threaten, intimidate and slap about until he'd got what he wanted. Alex pinched the bridge of her nose, pensively. She could hardly pull Gene off of someone and five days into her life here, she doubted he'd take kindly to it. It would come better from someone he trusted.

"Where's Sam?" Alex asked, impatiently.

"Still following up leads to do with Michael Vine," Annie said apologetically, "he sent me back to make sure they weren't too hard on him, but the Guv-"

"The Guv is a pig," Alex retorted, willing Sam to find something before Gene had beaten out a confession, "- comb through the statements, tell me what doesn't add up."

* * *

Alex let the door to the interview room slam shut, but it wasn't half as effective when she had to worm away through evidence, old newspapers, broken tellies and whatever rubbish couldn't be placed elsewhere. She looked, wide-eyed in horror - although she wasn't sure why when it was all so bloody predictable - as Ray stood aside, content to watch with a fag and Chris sat nearby, with a packet of salt 'n' shake. And then, there was the Guv, hovering over Carl Withers as his fist connected to his stomach, clearly not for the first time.

The punch jolted Alex into action. "What the _hell_ are you doing?!"

Gene stopped, his hand mid-air, ready to strike. Stepping back, having worked up a bit of a sweat, he looked expectant. "You come back with a cone of raspberry ripple for me?"

Gene's nonchalance only incensed her further. "He is in _custody_, Guv! You can't treat him like this!"

Gene stood straighter. _Shock horror - she's got a stick up her arse. _Her reaction was expected but it still riled him. "I'll treat him however I want until he starts giving me some soddin' answers!"

Alex scoffed; he was unbelievable. "You mean the _right_ answers?!" She dared him to admit it.

"Precisely!"

"_Guv_!"

She was on the verge of stamping her foot, but she doubted it would help her case. Did he realise that this looked like coercion? She looked to Withers, a broken man, slumped, crying, a bloodied nose. _Looked like? This is bloody coercion!_

"Drake, look..." Ray stepped forward, sick of watching the Guv and Drake glaring at each other; he rolled his eyes to see Alex now glaring at him. "_Ma'am,_ look at him, drunk and it's not even lunchtime. We know he's violent, so was the attack on Vine."

"Yeah, too messy to be pre-mediated." Chris chimed in, licking his fingers but still caring to impress the new DI.

"_Premeditated_, Chris." Ray corrected, deciding to throw the woman a bone. Coppers couldn't be squeamish; to get information sometimes you had to get your hands dirty. "The Guv's only helping to refresh his memory; he's not answering any of our questions." He threw a disgusted glance at the suspect. "Just keeps crying, like a baby."

"'Cause he's been caught red-handed." Ray nodded in agreement with the Guv's conclusion.

"Or perhaps it's because you've just informed him that his wife has been murdered with all of the sympathy of..." Alex wracked her brain for a crude metaphor, but that was really Gene's domain, "- well, of you lot!"

Ignoring Gene's scowl, she came round the table as Carl Withers hung his head in his hands, repeating _she's dead, she's dead._ Alex frowned at his tone - was it just of grief or something more? She couldn't tell, but she knew that beating the crap out of a man who was clearly in shock was not only morally depraved, but a complete waste of time. She narrowed her eyes as Gene grabbed Carl's face, increasingly frustrated by the man's murmurings.

"You know I can still smell the whiskey on your breath, son."

"Son? You're the same bloody age, you patronising git!" Alex snapped, coming in between the Guv and Carl. "If you want to hit him, you'll have to hit me first!"

Gene's eyes widened. _Bloody woman!_ "Don't bloody tempt me, Drake!"

Alex ignored him, knowing she'd probably pay for it later but no longer in the mood to care, and turned to kneel down to Carl."Come on, you have to get up," She insisted, offering a hand and trying to breathe through her nose. Withers certainly smelt like a brewery. "We have to ask you some questions. Come on."

"I can't even..." Carl whimpered, as Alex guided him the chair.

Plonking him down, she sighed as Carl bit a lip to stop crying, a nervous glance sent in the Guv's direction as he silently took the chair opposite, arms crossed. "Okay, someone give him a smoke." Alex tried, wanting to calm him. She looked to Gene, but he resolutely kept his eyes on Carl. _Very mature_. She sighed again. "Chris, please." Chris looked torn for a moment, but did as he was told and lit Carl a cigarette. "Where's the tape recorder?"

"Guv threw it at the wall," Ray smirked, glancing to the machine near his feet, "then he threw Withers at the wall."

"Ray, if you'd be so kind." Ray, too, was unwilling, but picked up the recorder, passing it to her. She smiled tiredly but satisfied and took her seat beside Gene. _Time to do this properly_. "Let's start this from the beginning, shall we?"

"Tyler don't hold a candle to you, Drake." The Guv muttered, eyes still resolutely ahead. Alex wisely chose to say nothing, but Gene went on, unimpressed. "That's an insult, in case you weren't sure."

"Yes, thank you," She said tightly, wondering - not for the first time - how much grief this Gene Hunt would be giving her, "- I got that much."

"...good."

* * *

Sam scratched his forehead tiredly, smiling to see Alex in C.I.D. Taking off his jacket and collapsing into his seat after a day on the street, however, he frowned and watched as his fellow DI, tapped the desk with her pen, her eyes glazed over.

"Leslie Vine," Sam gave his lead to snap her out of the trance, "hairdresser in Trafford, married to Michael Vine for ten years, only found out about his affair last week and didn't come in for work this morning."

Alex smiled humourlessly. "Carl Withers, local builder, broken nose, cell four."

_Ah_. Sam looked at her grimly, but unsurprised. "The Guv's spoken to him, then."

"Is beating up those in custody simply par for the course?" Alex asked drily, coming to tap the pen against her hand.

Sam raised an eyebrow. He could believe the Guv had it in him change, but he doubted there was a lobotomy in Gene's future. "He doesn't do that where you come from?"

"Well, no he does." Alex admitted freely, thinking of the Ska boys and just about anyone he'd smacked about, but with Lord Scarman's beady little eyes on the Met, pulling everyone into line, Gene had learned to limit himself to punching those he felt deserved it - scum, lowlifes, wankers and other such tossers. And at the moment, Carl Withers didn't fit that bill. He hadn't even lost his temper, just smacking Carl about like it was all very normal before asking her about ice cream. She pushed away the feeling of disappointment. "I don't know, he's usually a little more sparing with it.."

"You don't think it's Withers, then?"

"I don't know what to think." Alex shrugged, putting her own musings away. "Witnesses place Carl outside the Withers' house this morning; he went there angry and drunk. He's still drunk now."

"Annie said all the neighbours' reports suggested that glass smashing and raised voices were pretty much the norm 'round there." Sam remembered, before he'd gone off to his own digging.

"Yeah, she said." Alex sat up straighter, trying to kick herself into action instead of moping. "And he had motive - her relationship with Michael, maybe it was all too much for him."

"If I can't have her, no one can?" Sam theorised.

"Carl wouldn't be the first," Alex said knowingly, her thoughts dragged back to that red balloon, "- and he won't be the last. And yet..."

"And yet." Sam agreed, a slow smile spreading across his face. "_That's_ what makes you a good copper, Alex." She smiled dutifully at the compliment, but watched as Sam's interest was quickly diverted by the woman coming into C.I.D. _Now, there's a smile_. "Hello you."

"Hiya." Annie's reply wasn't particularly articulate, but it certainly lit up Sam's face. Alex wanted to roll her eyes, but felt mean to do so - being in love, that's what it should look like. She waited patiently, as Annie got down to business and excitedly passed Alex a file. "Coroner's report just came in, Ma'am."

"And?"

"Estimated time of death for them both is around midnight." Annie supplied. "Vine had been there for a while."

Alex nodded slowly - it wasn't enough to pull Carl out of the frame, but it begged a lot of questions. "Well, that's hours before anyone saw Withers."

Sam winked at Annie, proud of her work, but sighed inwardly as the Guv strolled back into C.I.D. "You got anything for me," Gene asked of Sam, not bothering to look at Alex but throwing his head in her direction, "'cause this one's about as much use as a frigid prozzie."

"Put a lot of prostitutes off, do you Gene?" Alex asked sweetly, pleased to see him spin on her, glaring. _Serves him right_. She grabbed her coat. "Annie and I are going to the morgue. You're wrong about Carl Withers; coroner says that by the time he came knocking, they were _both_ already long dead."

Gene pouted at the information, but shrugged casually. "Doesn't mean he didn't pop by to say hello earlier."

"You've seen him," Alex insisted, "- his despair over the death of his wife is genuine!"

"Cartwright's staying here." Gene decided. Sam shook his head, unsurprised by the behaviour. He'd rather deny Annie some needed investigative experience than concede to Alex. _Stubborn bastard_. This needed chasing up - everyone knew it, so did Gene - but the Guv still wanted to remind Alex who was...well, the Guv.

It was so typical that Sam was used to rolling his eyes and getting on with it, but he smirked at Alex's almost bemused expression. To Gene, Alex and Sam might be two peas in a pod with their fruitcake ways, their insistence on evidence, on crossing all the 't's, on dotting all the 'i's, but really, Sam knew, that's where the similarities ended. And thank God for it. To stand up for Annie at work wouldn't do either of them favours, but with Alex in her corner, she would do very well indeed.

"Why?" Alex asked, dismissing his idea as she grabbed Annie's coat and passed it to her. "She needs an opportunity to do some real detective work; she's the only one of this lot there who actually _wants_ to do some real detective work." She raised an expectant eyebrow, but Gene simply went to grinding his teeth. "I'll make you a tea myself before we go, hmm? Five sugars?"

Not bothering to wait for a reply, Alex left and Annie, murmuring a quick _sorry, Guv_ was more than happy to join her. The Guv watched them go and felt around for his hipflask. There was just something about her which left him needing a drink.

"You know Sam," He muttered, throwing back the whiskey, "I think I hate that woman."

_Is he saying that for my benefit or his own?_ Sam only shook his head, amused, his tone dry. "Yeah, sure you do, Guv."

* * *

It was almost clocking off time when they arrived at the morgue, but the doctor on the case was good enough to let them in to see Michael Vine's and Christine Withers' bodies. Looking at them laid out, side by side, covered only by a sheet, it was odd to think that these two had been lovers, partners, and now they were dead. _Like I am_, Alex noted grimly. She could only hope that they, too, had gone off to another world somewhere, a chance for a do-over.

Glancing up, she espied the doctor appraising her, his kind gaze able to tell her thoughts were elsewhere. She gave him a bright smile, if only to avoid questions. "I'm sorry, again, for keeping you."

"No need to apologise Inspector," He assured her, surprised by the courtesy; Stopford House's C.I.D wasn't famed for its manners. "You want to do a thorough job. Still no murder weapon to check for prints?"

"Not as of yet." Alex watched as Annie seemed pensive, taking in the injuries and trying to profile who could have done this. _She'll be an Inspector soon enough_. "Annie?"

"Could it have been a murder of passion, maybe?" Annie questioned, ready for her ideas to be shot down.

The doctor nodded. "The stab that killed him was the one directly to his heart here, but I would say that was luck." He pointed to the chest wound. "Or rather, bad luck. As far as I can see, the attack was very frenzied, yes."

"So, maybe," Annie ventured, "...maybe they had a falling-out over something and she went for him with a knife, panicked and when she ran for it, she fell down the stairs." It was only a hypothesis - it depended on a lot of ifs, but it was a start.

Alex nodded slowly, thinking it over. "The mental state of a woman who's suffered years of domestic abuse can be fragile; she might have snapped, so to speak. It could have been over something quite trivial." She gestured towards Christine's injuries. "The scrapes on her arms, the way she broke her neck - it suggests she fell quick and hard, but surely it's not enough to determine that someone pushed her?"

She looked to the doctor for confirmation who smiled, impressed. "True, that may well have been how it happened. Although," He added, gesturing towards Michael's wounds, "in such similar cases, I find housewives tend to choose the kitchen knife. The blade used in this victim's case was much smaller, like that of a penknife."

_Penknife?_ Alex frowned. "We'll bear that in mind, thank you."

Leaving the doctor to finish up and get off, they made their way to the exit, both tired after the day, but Annie's theory of events gave Alex a lot to think about. It was as reasonable an idea as Carl Withers coming over to kill Michael Vine, if not more so. It didn't make sense that Carl would frantically stab Michael only to push his wife down the stairs. But Annie's theory would be very difficult to prove, the two witnesses to what really happened too dead to question.

"You can go Annie, you did good today." Alex said, not wanting to drag her back to the station unnecessarily.

Annie nodded, barely able to keep the smile off her face. "Today's been great, thank you."

"What for?" Alex smiled back. "You did all the hard work."

Annie grinned at the compliment. She didn't know much about Alex Drake, but it was a relief to know that the older woman was on hand to help her professionally. "Off to the pictures with Sam if you wanna come?" She asked, extending the hand of friendship. "The Godfather Part II, you see the first one?"

"Yes, yes I did," The Godfather Series was one of the few 70s movies she had seen, but she didn't really want to be a third wheel if she could help it, "but I'll leave you to it - don't tell me what happens."

Annie nodded and took herself off; Alex watched her go wistfully. It'd been a long time since she'd been taken to the movies. But seeing as Sam Tyler had jumped off the top of a building for Annie, she thought drily, it wasn't all that shocking he was happy to take her out to see a film.

"Inspector?"

"Hmm?" She turned questioningly as the morgue's doctor walked briskly down the corridor to her.

"Your coat." He smiled charmingly.

Her eyes lit up in recognition, taking it off his hands. "Oh yes, thank you. I keep forgetting it's mine. Keep looking for my white jacket. It's so cold outside, but C.I.D's like a sauna so I take it off and..." She trailed off, hearing herself ramble and seeing his kind eyes on her once more. "Sorry, I do go on."

"Not at all." He assured her, still smiling. "You remember me, don't you?"

"Yes, of course. You showed me Tom Pooling's body on Monday, my first day," Alex rarely forgot a face, despite the whirlwind that that day had been. "You're Dr. Death. Shit," Her eyes widened, mortified that she'd used the lads' name for him, "- sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't worry, I'm used to it." He waved her off, laughing. "You can call me Dr. Death if you like, but I prefer James Carnie."

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Carnie-"

"James, please." And there was that charm again. "I, um, was hoping to catch you alone for a moment - I wanted to see if, well if," She raised an eyebrow as James cleared his throat nervously, "after you've settled in, you might like to go on a date."

Alex blinked. "A date?"

"Yes."

She could only blink again. "With you?"

He frowned, bemused. "If that's alright."

She automatically opened her mouth to decline politely. In 2008, he would have been her type - tall, attractive, educated, well-mannered, well-shaven - and if Molly hadn't taken a dislike to him, they'd probably have dated for a good few months before she decided her focus was being split too many ways and she said goodbye.

Meanwhile, in 1981 - ironically with no child and no great responsibilities - she would have said goodbye even sooner. After her infamous one-night stand with the red-braced Thatcherite - an event that Gene never let her forget - she'd been somewhat closed for business. It hadn't occurred to her to go looking for someone and what idiot would put his life at risk and ask her out as she sat, as she did every night, in the corner of Luigi's, drinking with the Manc Lion.

It should have pissed her off that Gene Hunt had basically declared her off-limits and, on some level, she supposed it did. It was presuming and over-protective of him when their relationship had never gone beyond a chaste peck at New Years and yet somehow, she wouldn't have had it any other way. It felt good to have the grumpy bastard by her side and frankly, Alex preferred her curry and a pint with the Guv to any posh date.

But _here_ - well, the rules were different, weren't they? From what little she'd experienced, Gene certainly liked to spend his evenings in the Railway Arms but - where once he'd been coming up to Alex's flat for a bottle of wine - he was leaving at a more reasonable hour to go home, to his wife. _His wife._ It was still so strange for her to say that. Gene Hunt had a lover in his wife and a best friend in Sam and, whilst Alex was beginning to see how she might fit in 1975, she knew it to be a waste of time to try to fit in the Guv's personal life. She needed to find a life of her own here, which meant accepting when a nice-looking man asked you out.

"No, no, yes, I see." Alex rambled, realising how she'd sounded. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow; that was hardly a clear answer. She shook herself. "I mean..._yes_, I would like that. You name a time and a date and I'll meet you there." She smiled brightly.

He grinned, confident now to flirt with her. "Friday night _is _date night."

"So, it is." Her own smile turning flirtatious. "Tomorrow, then."

* * *

The next day, it was Sam's chance to put his lead forward. The whole day before he'd been chasing up Michael Vine's wife, Leslie; it'd looked so promising. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_. But that was before he'd known that the woman in question was - what the Guv would so politely term - a right gobby tart. She wasn't even pausing for air. Sam grimaced as she lit up a cigarette; with that much hairspray, Leslie was a bit of a fire hazard. After yesterday's episode with Carl and Gene having had enough of Alex, he'd turned to Sam for answers, for a look at what he'd come up with. Sam grimaced again, as the scowl set deeper on the Guv's face. Leslie Vine - she was a headache, but not a murderer.

"Christine Withers?!" Leslie blurted, her shrill voice only rising as she found out who'd been cheating with her husband. "But I've given her a perm, the cheeky cow! You just wait until I get my hands on him!" She declared, furious. "On the pair of 'em!"

Gene wiped a hand over his face, feeling his temper beginning to fray and it wasn't even lunchtime. "How many bloody times?!" He complained, his voice rising to match hers. "Christine is dead, your old man is dead! They are _dead_!" Sam couldn't blame him; they'd reminded her so many times, they could hardly sugar-coat it anymore. "I need to know if it was you who got your hands on them _before_!"

"I gave up everything for him!" Leslie lamented, dragging on her cigarette and now giving her attention to Tyler. "Me gran said I could have been a model, - I've always looked like Twiggy, I could have walked the catwalks and everything!"

"Walked the streets, more like." Sam rolled his eyes at Ray's muttering from the door. _I bet he's bloody loving this._

"Right," Gene stood, leaning on the desk to get her to focus, "so far we've established you're deaf and your Gran's blind," He ignored her spluttering, smiling humourlessly, "- so let's try this one more time, shall we?"

Twenty minutes later, they'd all had enough and Leslie had been sent packing. Leaning back against the corridor wall, he swallowed, hoping the ringing in his ears would go away soon. If he'd met the woman yesterday, Sam wouldn't have wasted their time with this, but he thought they had enough to pull her in for some difficult questioning. He sighed, as the Guv came to stand beside him, drawing himself up to give a dressing-down.

"Leslie Vine's our woman. Leslie Vine's got motive. Leslie Vine's got previous." The Guv said, almost in a falsetto, mocking Sam's push for bringing her in.

Sam let his head rest against the wall, ignoring Ray and Chris' amused expressions. "I don't talk like that-"

"_Previous_?!" Gene snapped angrily, "Yeah, for public indecency! For finally quitting her yakking long enough to give some desperate sod a blowjob at a bus-stop!"

"Her friends said she had form; I hadn't got hold of her record yet." Sam defended half-heartedly, ignoring Ray's sniggering.

Gene gave him his best glare. "I could give that dozy tart a knife, scrawl 'stab this twat' on your ding-a-ling, push her in your direction and she'd still end up poking her own soddin' eye out!"

"Well," Sam said patiently, choosing not to reply to that, "if it's not Leslie Vine and it's not Carl Withers, then it's a murder of passion - just like Annie said."

"And when exactly did I ask Cartwright to start saying things?!" Gene yelled. "I don't buy it! If Christine stabbed Michael, freaked out and did a Dumbo from the top of her stairs, then where the hell is the murder weapon, Sherlock?" He demanded, not really expecting a response. "Hmm? Why don't you and Miss Marple figure that one out?"

Chris looked to Ray, frowning. "I didn't know Sherlock Holmes and Miss Marple solved crimes together."

"Oh yeah," Ray deadpanned, "that new Colombo off the telly goes along with them."

The Guv was ready to turn on them - Chris being a complete muppet was a good enough reason as any to yell, but stopped as Phyllis popped her head round the corridor.

"Guv, Carl Withers wants to be interviewed again."

Gene smirked. _Carl Withers, again_. The man _he'd_ pulled in, _his_ lead, _his_ collar - _the bloody murderer!_ "Send him my way then, Phyllis."

Sam shook his head, but headed for the interview room. Leslie Vine was a dead end, but that didn't mean that Carl Withers was a dead cert. "Whoa there," The Guv put an arm out stopping him, "why don't you check that our friend Leslie got home alright, hmm?" Gene dismissed him, sarcastically, before calling out to Phyllis again. "Go find Bolly - tell her to get her bony arse in here, _toot_ _sweet_!"

Sam smiled tiredly to himself, watching as the Guv went back into the interview room. He'd stuffed up with Leslie Vine and now _Bolly_ was back in his good books. A clever man, the Guv. He realised that fighting with two DIs at any one time wouldn't be best for keeping control and playing Alex and he off of one another would keep them at odds and him in control. _Divide and conquer_. Annoyingly, it was working.

"Seems you've been replaced, Sir."

Sam scowled - and there was Ray, on hand, just to check he got the message.

"Don't worry, Boss," Chris assured Sam, "always room with us - we'll make a good threesome."

And then, there was Chris. Ray rolled his eyes:

"Poof."

* * *

"I want to confess."

Alex looked up from her clasped hands on the table to Carl in confusion. She looked to the Guv questioningly, but his face remained unchanged.

"To what?" Gene asked.

"To it." Carl sighed impatiently. "- to killing Christy and her...her boyfriend, Michael. I murdered them." He ran a hand over his face. "With my own two hands."

Alex swallowed; when Gene had her called to the interview room, she hadn't been expecting this.

"What happened?" The Guv asked.

"I came 'round last night, like you said," Carl supplied, his voice shaking, probably from sleep deprivation and a need for a drink. "I just planned on scaring off Mike, but it got out of hand and I ended up stabbing him, lost my temper. And then, Christy walked in and started screaming and we fought on the stairs and she fell."

The Guv clenched his jaw at how matter-of-fact the dickhead was. "You push her?"

"No, yeah, I don't know," Carl shrugged sadly, "- I can't remember."

"Right, and you came over this morning to what? Check they hadn't upped and left?" The Guv asked wryly.

"Well, to cover my tracks." Carl nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The whole thing had shaken me up so I got pissed - and then I remembered the kids being there alone and I had to check on them, but I didn't get an answer."

Alex frowned, baffled by what was happening. The man who could barely string a sentence together for crying was now coming up with all the answers. None of this was making sense and his anxious body language wasn't doing anything to convince her.

"Hold on," Alex asked, getting her thoughts together, "how did the altercation with Michael even escalate to you stabbing him?" Carl frowned, not understanding. "Sorry, I mean - where did you get the knife? Why were you even carrying it with you?"

"You always need a knife to cut through rope and packages on site, so I always have it," Carl swallowed, "It's a small knife, mind, but I forgot I had it."

She narrowed her eyes. "Where is it now?"

"I don't know!" He snapped, his temper making an appearance. "I got drunk and I dropped it! Why does it matter? I killed my wife!" Carl's face crumbled into sobs as he got increasingly agitated, "I loved her so much, but - love's not enough, is it? It's all my fault, it was always my fault! I pushed her, I pushed her and she ended up shacking up with Vine - he wanted them to all go away, to move down to Leeds near his family!" Carl tried to explain himself. "I couldn't let that happen! I didn't mean to kill 'em but-"

"You just did." Gene supplied, his tone quiet but more menacing than any yell could be. He looked Carl up and down, near snarling. "You know, men like you; they make me sick. They smack around their missus, 'cause it makes them feel like hard men but they're cowards, the lot of 'em. 'Cause they'd never stand up to a bloke their own size, they wouldn't know what to do. So, your wife finally shows you the door and finds a bit of happiness with a man who doesn't use her as a punching bag - and you just can't stand it, can you?" Carl didn't try to protest, just sat oddly still. "Bollocks you forgot you had a knife, you knew _exactly_ what you were doin' when you stabbed Michael Vine. Whether you meant for the wife to see is another matter - but she _did_ see - maybe you tried to reason with her and she fell, maybe you realised she had to go too - doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Again, Carl said nothing and Gene's eerie calm suddenly snapped, his chair falling back as he stood up. "DOES IT?!"

Alex jumped at his tone, her heart pounding, but this confession didn't make sense - that he couldn't remember what happened to Christine, that he didn't know what he'd done with the murder weapon, that he turned up drunk and calling for Christine the next morning. What had changed since yesterday which made him want to confess? Something occurred to her, something Phyllis had mentioned.

"Carl," Alex ventured slowly, encouraging Carl to look at her rather than the heavy-breathing Guv beside her, "- who were you on the telephone to, just now?" She looked at Carl imploringly. "WPC Dobbs said you'd used your one phone call this morning. She guessed to speak to your lawyer, but it wasn't him, was it?"

Carl's eyes averted her; she knew she was on to something, but Gene had had enough, gesturing to the plonk at the door. "Get him out of my sight!"

Alex sighed. "Guv, wait-"

"NOW!"

* * *

Gene scowled as he waltzed down the station steps for fresh air, a fag and a much-needed fry-up from Dana's cafe down the high street. This week was turning into the mother of all weeks. Three murders and all of them had him riled. Tom Pooling had brought back some uncomfortable memories of Stu and now Carl Withers was showing him a _what if _of his own past. He'd spent his whole childhood hoping his mam would finally show the old man the door, but now he was starting to wonder if she'd made the right decision by getting on with it and raising her two boys where she could see them. Showing dad the curb - that might have been all the push he needed to finally make good on his word and kill her.

On top of all that, Gene now had two DIs to contend with - he didn't know if he was coming or going. Yesterday, Bolly had been a right pain in arse, playing mother and skiving off work for ice cream and now Sam had brought in the most useless woman in the world for questioning. He knew Sam, knew how he ticked, how to put him to good use - Gladys did well when he could go off on his own and then somehow they'd both come up with two halves of the same puzzle and get that collar. He'd assumed Bolly would be much the same, those two weirdos having got on like a house on fire. But now he wasn't so sure. Gene had a feeling he was going to have keep a much shorter lease on her. He couldn't decide if she was brilliant or stark raving mad.

Nearing the bottom of the steps, Gene stopped in his tracks to see said woman hand over cash to a tramp and kiss his cheek goodbye. _Stark raving mad, it is_.

Alex's smile dropped off her face as she turned to see the Guv staring her down. "Were you just giving that tramp money?"

She raised a chin, daring him to complain. There was nothing wrong with talking to homeless man; Gene could judge all he wanted. "His name's Michael - and if it weren't for him, I might never have got here."

But Gene ignored her, stepping closer. "Let me rephrase that: were you just giving that tramp _my_ money?"

Well, he could judge her for that, she supposed. Alex shrugged, not really that apologetic. "Payday will come around soon enough."

He pouted, looking her up and down. "Not soon enough for you, Bolly."

She rolled her eyes. _Any excuse to have a look_. She gave him a once over in return to give him a taste of his own medicine, but stopped at the feet. Alex sighed at the ghastly white loafers. "Have you ever thought about boots?"

Gene blinked, looking down. "Boots?"

"Cowboy boots - could look good with a suit." She smiled softly in remembrance. Looking back up, they paused, staring at each other for a moment. She blushed; he was giving her that look again. Alex cleared her throat, thinking it best to talk about the case. "Carl's confession..."

He couldn't blame her for breaking the moment, but did she have to do it by ticking him off? "I knew you wouldn't let this go."

"It doesn't make sense." Alex said, determinedly. "I don't think he simply lost his temper."

"Neither do I; I think it was all planned, the little shit." Gene sniffed.

Alex frowned. "No, I don't think that either. I don't think he did it."

"You don't think a lot, apparently." He muttered drily. "Were you in that room, Bols?"

She narrowed her eyes at the sarcasm and tried another tact. "Did you see the way he flinched when you yelled at him?"

"I should bloody hope so - only last week I had a mugger shit his pants before I'd even laid a finger on him." He took her roll of the eyes for disbelief. "I'm not joking, left a stain on Chris' chair."

_God, he can skirt around something when he wants to_. She sighed, exasperated. "Carl Withers is a drinker, but _nothing_ about his behaviour indicates that he's violent. Since the moment you started questioning him he's mostly been crying."

"I would cry too if my future looked like his - little chap like that, he'll be bending over for the soap all day every day." Gene huffed in annoyance; she still wasn't bloody satisfied. "Look, we know he's capable - plod were dealing with their domestics for years."

Alex pounced on that, just one more thing that didn't make sense. "Annie's looked through the reports - they're unusually vague. What if Carl wasn't the abuser?" She ventured. "What if _Christine_ was the violent one in the marriage?"

"All wives whack you around once in a while for being a naughty boy." Gene frowned, not understanding her. Most women were violent, given half a chance - and how could she talk when the first time he'd laid eyes on her, she was laying her fists on him? "It's hardly police business, that - if she was getting out of hand, he could have easily smacked her down." He held up a placating hand as Bolly's face flushed attractively red in outrage. "What I mean is, she didn't look like a strong thing - he might be small, but he's a builder, hard work that."

"Yes, but it's not just about being overpowered, is it? It's about control." She informed him, wondering how much research had gone into these issues by the 1970s. "Domestic abuse goes scandalously unreported and cases where wives are physically and emotionally abusing their husbands are seldom brought to the police because many men are embarrassed, ashamed even."

Gene sniffed. "As any man would be."

She let that one go. "You heard him - 'it was always my fault, I pushed her' - blaming himself, the vernacular of someone being abused or at least being made to feel insecure. When I spoke to Craig yesterday, the one word he used to describe his father was _spineless_." She looked to Gene imploringly, knowing he couldn't ignore this. "Does that sound like the right adjective for a wife beater? Maybe he's covering for Christine for the sake of his kids, maybe he doesn't want to tarnish their memory of her, I don't know."

"Well, when you _do_ know, give me a call."

Alex tutted at his stubborn refusal to take on board what she was saying. Gene didn't like it when she was right, but when she was right, he normally owned to it. "He doesn't have a murder weapon; you know all that stuff about covering his tracks was bollocks - where's the proof?"

Gene scowled, ready for the conversation to be over. "You'll find juries aren't so hung up on proof when the bloke at the stand is waving his arms about, shouting, 'I did it! I did it!'"

She frowned. _Sarcastic bastard._ Why wasn't he listening to her? So, they'd only known each other five days, so what? The Guv was astute enough to know lies from facts. "You're not even pushing for the truth, are you?"

He sighed quietly, wistful even. "You say that like the truth's important."

* * *

By the end of the day, Alex had forced herself to stop thinking about the case. The Guv was being as stubborn as a mule. As far as he was concerned, Carl Withers had confessed; they had their man. It was tripe - and it was beyond her that Gene believed it. But there were other cases to solve and other responsibilities to attend to and so, she just got on with it, waiting for the weekend to begin and hoping either Carl rethought his confession or the Guv would be in a more open frame of mind come Monday morning.

Her date with James Carnie went well, very well in fact. He took her to his favourite restaurant and then for a drink afterwards. He was charming, smart and funny, but from his stories, Alex got the impression that James was really a frustrated surgeon and wasn't all that enamoured with pathology. It wasn't for everyone, she supposed. He also talked - a lot. It hadn't bothered her too much, she didn't like talking about her past and she was probably a little too used to the grunt replies in C.I.D, but Alex did wonder if it'd get on her nerves eventually. Still, James shared her interests and when he invited her to a new gallery opening as their evening came to a close, she was happy enough to accept. Maybe he was just chatty when nervous; after all, he only risked a kiss on the cheek when they said their goodbyes. She hadn't been drunk enough to sleep with him, but she'd been hoping for a good snog. If she was too brazen for 1981, then 1975 didn't know what had hit it.

By Saturday lunchtime, Alex needed something to do. She'd spent the morning running errands, including speaking to an estate agent about flats to rent in the area. Annie was right; Sam's place was a dump. Usually, her Saturdays were spent rubbing her hands together against the London chill as the Fenchurch boys took on another station on the pitch. In the summer, they had more luck with cricket but they'd usually lose at footie; why Ray put Chris in as goalie was beyond her. Gene would shout abuse at the referee from the sidelines, but he'd share his hipflask and then they'd all commiserate - or occasionally, celebrate - by piling into Luigi's. The afternoon would blur into the evening as Gene kept filling up her wine glass or sometimes, for variety, she'd let Shaz drag her off somewhere. A night with Shaz and her friends always made her feel old, but Sunday was her day for lamenting until Luigi would take pity on her and send her food upstairs with a complimentary bottle of wine.

Well, there might be no Shaz and no Luigi, but she could still have a girls' night out and the obligatory hangover if she wanted. Alex wasn't beyond pulling rank for a bit of company. But walking into the Arms as lunch was winding down, she was amazed to see so many of C.I.D on a Saturday, including Gene, tucking into pies, washing them down with pints. Her eyes lit up to see who she was looking for laughing at the boys' table, sat next to Sam.

"Annie!" She greeted confidently, ignoring Ray's groan. "Just the person I wanted to see."

The smile dropped off Annie's face, worried. "Something the matter, Ma'am?"

"Nothing the matter," Alex smiled, grabbing a seat beside her, "just wondering what you were doing this evening?"

"Didn't take you for a beaver muncher, Bolly."

She narrowed her eyes at Gene, who only smirked and went back to his pint, leaning casually in his chair now that the entertainment had arrived. "I was thinking we could got to a club," Alex suggested, choosing to ignore him, "let our hair down."

"Join a club?" Annie frowned.

"She means go to a disco." Sam translated helpfully.

"Really?" Alex grinned. _A real 1970s disco, how completely brilliant_. "Disco - yes! _Yes_!" Ray and Chris raised eyebrows at her excitement. "I could do with getting drunk whilst trying to remember the moves to the YMCA."

Sam smiled, biting into his pie. "Bit early for that."

"Oh, well," Alex shrugged happily, "some Earth, Wind and Fire, then. What do you say?"

"Well, I'm trying to watch the pennies at the moment," Annie said apologetically, looking to Sam, "- we're saving for our big day."

"Forget about that," Sam encouraged her, sensing her disappointment, "you go have fun - we're going to the footie, after all."

_The footie - that's why they're all in here_, Alex realised, only now taking note of the blue scarves on the table.

"To watch City cream the enemy." Gene nodded, raising an eyebrow at Ray. "Even this Man United-supporting twonk's coming, aren't you traitor?"

Ray sighed, heavily - as if the Guv was ever going to forget. "Of course, Guv."

"What about you, Bols? There's always room for another in the stands, we could squash in close," Gene raised his eyebrows suggestively, "- I'll even treat you to a bacon bap."

"Football, _please_ - I'd rather get a bikini wax." Alex deadpanned, blinking as the pub fell silent. Sam grinned; it was nice to have a modern woman about the place. Alex went on, ignoring them. "Come on, Annie - we can still watch the pennies." She smiled, half-joking. "We'll flirt audaciously with some generous but rather hapless men, get them to buy us drinks."

"So, you're a tease," Ray interrupted, "- worst kind of woman."

"'Ere, 'ere, Raymondo." The Guv agreed, lighting up, "but you mean, you're a tease, _Ma'am_. Don't forget the Ma'am, Sergeant."

"Yes, Guv." She smirked as Ray blanched at the rebuke, as small as it was.

"What do you say?" Alex asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, alright, then." Annie agreed, smiling. "Celebrate you coming to Manchester."

"Great, excellent. " Alex grinned, almost clapping. Weekends were for having fun and now she could finally get to it. "Nelson, a bottle of your best red, please!" She called over to the bar, grabbing her purse.

"I see you're still using..." Gene pouted, sighing. "I'm never gonna get that money back, am I?" Sam shook his head, laughing at the man.

"See?" Alex winked at Annie. "Generous - but rather hapless."

* * *

By their fourth bottle, they were really enjoying themselves.

To be fair, the wine had been drunk over a prolonged period of time. After the lads had wandered off to see the football, they'd taken a couple of bottles back to Alex's. Best bit of going out was getting ready, she knew. So they'd chatted, swapped stories, tried on various outfits, Alex lending Annie something. Annie settled on an orange chiffon number, whilst Alex decided to throw complete caution to the wind with a white dress with angel wing sleeves, which only just about covered her bum. _Well, you're only young once_. Now that she dead - maybe she'd be young forever. She doubted it.

Pouring out of her flat and into a cab some hours later, they'd made their way to Tiffany's, one of the newest dance clubs in Manchester, which put the others to shame with its enormous dance floor and spinning mirror ball. It was so cliché, it was so 70s and Alex was determined to make it the best night of her afterlife so far. So, they bought a bottle, and another, and now they were settled in one of the booths surrounding the dance floor, giving their feet a well-deserved break.

"You know, you were right - this is fun." Annie smiled, calling to her over the music.

"Good, I feel as you do - I want us to be friends." Alex smiled back, both of them slurring and a little worse for wear.

"Course. Us girls have to got stick together, right?" Annie agreed, finishing off the bottle into their glasses. "And those bozos down the station will get used to it. You're an inspiration Ma'am - you remind me that I'm not gonna always be the tea lady, that this job could go somewhere." Annie told her sincerely. "Sam's great - doesn't expect me to give up nothin' after we're married, not if I don't want to, _even_ after we have kids. He says being a policewoman makes me happy and being happy is key to being a good mum, but I s'pose we'll see." She blushed to see Alex's grin. "Getting a little ahead of myself, aren't I?"

Alex shook her head. _She was lucky girl._"That's a smart one you've got there, don't let him go."

"I won't. Not gonna lie though, was a tad worried when I saw you two together." Annie admitted, taking a sip of her wine. "You're very attractive and you're smart and good at your job, a bit strange too - you reminded me of Sam, I thought I was done for."

"Annie, Sam and I haven't known each other long," Alex assured her, "he's just been supportive during a very difficult time for me."

"Yeah," Annie smiled sympathetically, "I'm so sorry about your little girl."

"No, it's okay." Alex waved her off; this much alcohol in the system, if she started crying, she'd never stop. "Being apart from her, it's...I'm learning to cope. But don't be surprised if I'm blubbing like a baby or yelling my head off from time to time."

"I know," Annie grinned, sensing Alex wanted to move on, "Chris told me how you put a stop to the Guv laying into Withers - not scared of him, then?" Her grin only grew to see Alex scoff at the very idea. "See, that's what I've realised today, you're not like my Sam, not really, you're more...well, you're more like him."

"Who? The Guv?"

"No," Annie automatically replied, seeing the look of horror on the other woman's face, before she sighed, shrugging. "Well yeah, actually, - see, you're fearless - very stubborn, mind - and you think you're in the right," She held out a placating hand as Alex went to defend herself, "but that's okay because you're always trying to do the right thing."

Alex grimaced; Annie had a point. "It's tiring." She admitted quietly.

"Yeah," Annie smiled softly, "which is why the Guv has the booze and the fags and the footie-"

"And I have disco?"

"Exactly." Annie's eyes twinkled with humour.

There was a truth to what Annie said which was a little scary, but it made sense; their similarities was what kept she and Gene either finishing each other's sentences or wanting to cause each other bodily harm. A thin line to tread. _Now then, Bollingerknickers, you gonna kiss me or punch me?_ Alex sighed inwardly; it wasn't going to help her to dwell much on that.

"Come on," Alex decided, grabbing Annie's hand, "let's show these twenty year olds how it's really done." She smirked to herself as the men happily parted like the Red Sea and she and Annie started dancing. "What's this?" She yelled over the music, laughing as Annie busted out dance moves which reminded her of Evan and started to sing.

"So, I like to know where you got the notion to rock the boat, rock the boat baby!"

Another hour later, their tête-à-tête behind them, Annie twirled, grinning to see Alex bat some bloke's hands away. It was good to know that the new DI worked hard, but played hard. She had a confidence, too, with the opposite sex which was refreshing. Alex liked to flirt, but she wasn't willing to dumb herself down or massage egos in order to flirt back. There was something about her which demanded men treat her with some respect or God help them. Being in C.I.D could be intimidating - Annie was used to their petty remarks, but the lads could still sometimes make her feel uncomfortable or useless. She hated it when the Guv called her _Mrs. Woman_ and the boys laughed, but then Alex Drake waltzes in and he's calling her_ Bollyknickers_ and she wasn't so much as blinking. She'd have to learn the trick to that.

Twirling again, Annie turned amazed to see Sam and the Guv waltz in, looking somewhat out of place among the sequins, many of the men's platforms rivalling the girls. "Sam, over here!" She called, laughing and happily pulling Sam down for a kiss in front of the Guv, the wine having done its job, but his eyes were too busy roaming the dance floor. "I'd have thought you were down the pub - worried about all the flirting?"

"Maybe, a little." Sam grinned, nodding his head in Gene's direction, "but not half as worried as the Guv."

"Eh?" Gene grunted, having to come closer to hear over the music. "What have you done with Drake?" Annie bit her lip to stop herself smiling and nodded behind him. Gene turned, blinking to see his Inspector happily holding court, dancing with a couple of - in his opinion - pervy blokes who looked like Christmas had come early. She was dancing awfully close, swaying her hips and - "Bloody 'ell." He blurted, sharing a look with Annie who could only shrug.

"What?" Sam asked, having been to enough 21st century clubs to know Alex was only having a bit of harmless fun. "She's only dancing."

"You call _that_ dancing?" Gene's eyebrows hit his forehead, his eyes back on Bolly's antics. "I'm surprised she's not charging a fee for the show!"

Sam sighed inwardly; he supposed he hadn't really seen too many women dance like that in the 1970s, not unless they wanted a name for themselves. And women were always quick to make a name for themselves, misogyny nice and ripe these days. "Well, they dance differently in the South, I think."

Gene clucked his tongue, unimpressed. "How much has she had, Cartwright?"

"Enough to put down a horse," Annie defended, hearing the blame in his voice, but it wasn't her fault that Alex had finished most of the last bottle, "but she's got hollow legs, that one!"

Giving Annie a glare for good measure, Sam could only watch as Gene stalked across the dance floor and grabbing a surprised Alex by the arm, dragging her to the side of the dance floor. He shook his head; this wasn't good. The Guv had been a nightmare for hours. He'd been enjoying the football up to half-time, until Ray made the error of informing the Guv that he'd heard off of Phyllis who'd heard it off of one of the plonks dating one of the police surgeons that one of the Dr. Deaths down the morgue had a date with the new Inspector in C.I.D. _Of course_, the grumpy bastard would deny it until his dying breath, but after Gene had heard that, he was like a bear with a sore head. When Sam had mentioned he might join the ladies in the evening, Annie having encouraged him to come, Gene had decided he'd come along too, see what the fuss was all about. Now, the Guv liked a dance hall as much as the next guy, watching the ladies dance around their handbags, but the new discos which were cropping up in the city were not his sort of thing. _All the fellas dance like poofs, Gladys!_ And yet here he was. Sam didn't know what to make of it anymore. Alex was very attractive; it hadn't surprised him that the Guv flirted with her now and then, but _this_...

"I've never seen him like this."

Sam nodded as Annie put a stunned voice to his own thoughts. "Neither have I."

Alex, meanwhile, may have been stunned to see Gene in a disco, but her amazement was quickly replaced with frustration as he stopped her dancing. She yanked her arm away, hearing her _friends_ complain at her absence; Gene silenced them with a glare.

A few glasses ago, she would have rebuked him for being so rude but now all she could manage was a flirtatious smirk."Can't keep away, Gene?"

"Wanted to protect the defenceless blokes of this city away from your slutty ways, Bols." He informed her, rolling his eyes as she waved goodbye to her so-called dance partners. "You been getting free drinks left, right and centre, then?"

"Plenty of offers, but we've bought most of them ourselves," Alex smiled cheerfully, deciding to stay in a good mood, "- your defenceless blokes were getting awfully handsy."

"Doesn't surprise me, a tea towel would do a better job of covering your fanny, Bolly." Gene sniffed, taking a moment to give her legs a good looking-over. He narrowed his eyes, not liking her last bit. "Anyone need putting in their place?"

She snorted. _Presuming and over-protective_. There was the Gene Hunt she knew and loved. "I'm sure your presence alone has scared them all off."

"Good." He nodded, his own mood lifting. "Well, you can still walk - let's see what we can do about fixing that, shall we?"

* * *

By three in the morning, as he helped her open her door, only for Alex to stumble through and nearly fall flat on her face, Gene was wondering if he should have let her quit whilst she was ahead. He'd had quite a few himself, but was alright for driving and so was left to deal with old tarty knickers whilst Sam took off with Annie, looking good on a promise.

He couldn't moan too much, though. Bolly could be a right laugh when she wanted to be. So much for a whiskey chaser, she'd had him downing tequila and whatever else was on offer at the bar. All out of his own pocket unsurprisingly, but a cheeky wink from his Inspector had got them a decent round of free drinks. In fact, he would go so far as to say that he'd had fun. The missus was going to kill him, assuming he'd spent a night putting it about. _If only._

"Bolly, watch your arse, would you?" He complained, pulling her up to sit on her bed. "_Jesus_, woman."

He sighed as she seemed to get her bearings, suddenly realising they were home. Make-up everywhere, reeking like a wino - she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. _For Christ's sake_. She kicked off her shoes, smiling up at him. "I'm thirsty."

"You want a glass of water?" Gene asked before checking her smile. He shook his head exasperated, biting a smile of his own. "Can't get enough, can you?" He got out his hipflask, passing it to her, before really looking around the place. "This place is a shithole."

"You noticed." She took a swig, moving up so he could sit down.

"Didn't before - suited Tyler fine." Gene smirked, taking the flask back for a drink. "Classy bird like you though, Bols, - shouldn't be able to fry eggs from her bed."

Alex nodded, sighing. "I want somewhere with a bathtub, and a double bed."

"For all your late-night visitors?"

She rolled her eyes at his question, always poking his bloody nose in. "Shut up, you know I haven't slept with anyone since..." Alex trailed off, as he frowned. She bit the inside of her cheek. _Different Gene._ "Never mind."

"Don't worry, we'll sort you out." He assured her after giving her a searching stare. "I'll speak to Joe Terbert the Pervert about finding you somewhere decent. He's got a couple of flats round Blackfriars way and-"

She pulled a face. "I'm not renting off a guy called Terbert the Pervert."

"Oh, Joe wouldn't like you, Bolly - not enough of the old todger." Gene winked, as Alex decided to curl up and grab her pillow to lean on. "There's one near the Arms, above some café."

"What kind of café?"

"I don't know, Dimitri's or somethin'," He shrugged, bemused by the question, "why?"

"Greek, why not?" She didn't want to cheat on Luigi with another Italian if she could help it. "Set up a meeting with this pervert bloke."

Gene rubbed his eyes. "You're a bossy cow, I hope you know that."

"It's all part of my charm." Alex grinned before yawning. "You like it."

"Do I really?" He snorted sceptically.

"You will do." Gene frowned at how confident she sounded, watching as she closed her eyes for a moment, the tiredness catching up with her. Then, she opened them, a wave of sadness and affection making her heart hurt just looking at him, looking at her concerned. "We're the ones, you and I. We have a connection."

He pouted, a _don't flatter yourself, sweetheart_ at the ready, but he couldn't do it. Gene didn't want to think about how exactly this mouthy tart had managed to have such an effect on him in a matter of days, but she had - and he believed her. They did have a connection of sorts, and it killed him that he couldn't do anything about it. Playing away once in a while hadn't got him chucked out of the house yet, but Gene had a pretty good feeling that if he started kissing Alex Drake, he wouldn't ever want to stop. "If you say so, Bols." He smiled softly, deciding it was high time he left before one of them crossed the line. "You think you'll be needing a bucket?" He asked, getting up.

"No, I...thank you; drive home safe." She said, snapping out of her fatigue as he made his way to leave. The tongue hit the roof of her mouth as she realised how much she missed this, just them, talking about anything, about everything and nothing - how much she missed him. Getting up with a little effort, she opened the door for him, letting him pass before giving into the impulse. "Guv, one more thing?"

"Yes, Bolly?"

Alex smiled tearfully as he turned back to her. "Can I have a hug?" She could see Gene was taken aback, but he hadn't laughed in her face and that was good enough. She sighed, knowing her voice was getting pathetically small. "Please?"

"You wanna a hug from the Gene Genie?" He asked after a moment, his own voice laced with bemusement and a brand of warm gruffness that was oh-so-Gene Hunt. Alex nodded. And so Gene held his arms open slightly, his eyes smiling. _Make it quick then, Bolly_.

Coming forward, she'd expected herself to throw her arms around him, but instead she leant into him, her arms going round his waist, her hands to his back, as she let her face crumble into his shoulder and her tears fall, knowing he couldn't see them. _He's not an idiot; he knows you're crying._ Regardless, she didn't allow herself to even whimper. Not even when he brought his arms around her shoulders, rubbing her back comfortingly. Not even when she felt him plant a kiss on the top of her head.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, allowing herself a moment to regroup before she let go and faced the pity in his eyes. But there was none. "Thanks." She said quietly. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Nah, you'll see me tomorrow." He corrected her, giving her a rare smile. "Sleep tight, Bols, don't let the bed bugs bite."

* * *

Alex slept well enough, but when she woke up, she felt like she should have taken Gene up on that bucket. Putting a hand to her mouth and pulling her face off the pillow, she grimaced as the hangover assaulted her from all angles. A toothbrush, a shower and an aspirin sorted out a few ailments but by midday, she hadn't managed so much as a piece of toast. Thank God it was Sunday and she could spend the whole day feeling sorry for herself.

It'd been worth it, though - from what she could remember. She and Annie had spent the whole night giggling and dancing; Alex hoped it would be the first of many night-outs with her. She'd never really had much of a chance in her youth. Evan had always been rather overprotective, so it wasn't until university that she'd properly gone wild and soon after she'd graduated, she'd fallen pregnant with Molly. Last night was an opportunity to let go and when the Guv had walked in, all frowning and pouting, she'd been able to let go, because she knew that he'd look after her. Even if she was spread-eagled, throwing up in a gutter - he'd looked after her. _God, I hope that didn't happen_.

Deciding a walk might freshen her up, Alex left the flat. Closing the door to the street, she smiled, bemused, to see Michael at his usual post, sitting on the bench across the street. She'd bumped into him on Friday; he said that he was just checking that she'd made it to Stopford alright - five days later, but there was definitely more to it. When he looked at her, it was like it was looking right through her, as if he knew everything about her. She wasn't sure whether to be comforted or disturbed. In 2008, it would definitely have been the latter, but here life had taken on a whole new meaning and she wasn't going to discard a man who might have answers.

"Michael?"

"Hello, there." Michael smiled, welcoming her to sit beside him. He had such a kind smile.

"You still standing watch?" She asked cheekily, amused that he wasn't concerned that, by any normal person's standards, this would verge on stalking.

"How you settling in, then?" He asked cheerfully, as if he'd come round for tea.

"Well enough, I think." Alex answered honestly. _Well enough for woman coming to terms with the fact she's dead_."I've got both feet in this world now. It's all quiet on the Western Front." She muttered; sometimes she was grateful for the silence, but other times, it was deafening, her whole body wanting the TV to jump to life, tell her that she's wrong, that she still has a chance.

"Good film, that."

She raised an eyebrow; he let all her crazy musings just roll on by. "I used to hate Sundays." She confessed, looking out on to the street. It was so quiet, everybody inside enjoying a family roast no doubt. "They were a day to spend with your family and I didn't really have one and then I had Molly and suddenly I loved Sundays again." She grinned, so many happy memories to choose from. "I know she'll be alright," Alex nodded, determinedly, "- Evan will soldier on with her as he always does, hopefully Pete will finally step up to the bloody mark and..." She sighed, catching a sob at the back of her throat before she started crying, "- and she'll never doubt that her Mummy loved her, because I told her - _all_ the time, whenever I could." But it was no use and she was forced to bat away the few tears on her cheeks. "Sorry, sorry, it's just I fought so hard and didn't give up hope but I can't ignore my gut anymore." She smiled ironically. _How proud Gene would be_. "My copper's nous is telling me it's all over."

"Over?" Michael frowned, as if finally tuning in. Alex looked to him questioningly, as he shook his head, his eyes smiling. "Nah, you've got years ahead of you yet. Still plenty of lessons to learn before you go on."

Her heart stilled. "On to where?"

"Beats me." He grinned and Alex's heart sunk a little. Here she was thinking he was the oracle, when he could easily be - and considering appearances, probably was - a crazy tramp. "Wherever it is, it's best to be prepared."

She smiled politely, but the Scouts' motto wasn't exactly the great advice she'd been looking for. Her head snapped up at that - a sudden brainwave.

"Be prepared..."

* * *

Having rushed into work early the next day, Alex shivered by the station's doors as she waited for Gene's car to suddenly appear, near missing pedestrians as it spun around a street corner. If she'd been a braver woman, she would have called his house as soon as the thought had occurred to her, but she'd been too nervous that his wife would pick up and Alex could only imagine how she felt about the Inspector who'd kept her husband away until three o'clock on a Sunday morning.

Near jumping as she saw him speeding along the street, she quickly ran down the steps and on to the road, sticking her hand out for him to stop the car. The Guv didn't look best pleased, but she trusted him. He was a nut behind the wheel, but he never hit anyone.

Gene scowled, sticking his head out the window as she came round. "Not that I don't enjoy seeing your tits bounce about as you run down the steps, Bolly, but if you scratch the paintwork on my car, I'll-"

"Craig Withers," She interrupted him, leaning down, "- he's in the Scouts."

"Right." Gene said, non-plussed. "So what? He can build a fire and mimic a pigeon; all power to him -"

"Michael Vine's stab wounds," She went on, determined; he was not going to pin this on Carl Withers without a thorough investigation. "- James said they were made by nothing bigger than a penknife, like a Scout's penknife maybe? I'm not-"

"Who the bloody hell is James?" Gene snapped, sick of being interrupted.

"Carnie. Dr. Carnie, you know," He didn't know and she could see him about to lose his rag, "the coroner, Dr. Death - it doesn't matter!" She sighed, frustrated. "Have you heard a word of what I've just said?"

"Bolly, we have our man! Withers confessed!" Gene complained."What more do you bloody want?!"

"But it isn't him, I know it isn't." Alex insisted, pleading with him. "None of it feels right - Carl's an alcoholic, yes, but - we talked about this!" She scowled, knowing that none of it felt right to him either, he just didn't want to admit it. "Not at one point in this investigation has he lost his temper-"

"Well, I'm about to lose mine!" Gene glared at her, wishing he were standing so he could stare her down. "You really think a fifteen year old is capable of stabbing a grown man and pushing his own mam down the stairs?"

She sighed inwardly. She didn't know. That was the point - there were too many unanswered questions to let Carl Withers take the fall with such a ropey confession. "Maybe it isn't Craig, maybe he's covering for his mum just like Carl might be, I don't know, but I bet you anything he knows where the murder weapon is. Nothing about any of this suggests it was Withers-"

Gene dropped his head on the seat; they were going round in circles. "Apart from the fact he bloody admitted to it!"

"Humour me?" Alex looked at him imploringly, but again he only groaned in response. Well, she could do stubborn, too. "With or without you, Guv - I'm finding out the truth."

Another groan - she smiled, knowing what he meant. _Get in the bloody car, then_.

* * *

By the time they'd reached Aunt Gail's house, where the children were staying, Alex could tell the Guv was having a change of heart. He had done the unimaginable and kept to the speed limits. Then, he'd practically dragged his heels as they found the right house at the end of the terrace and now, he was waiting uncomfortably, leaning against the front gate as she knocked. Where was the usual offer to break down the door? Why was he so determined to pin this all on Carl Withers?

"Hello?" Alex called, ringing the bell.

"Bolly, give it up-"

"Hello, is there anybody there?" She called through the letterbox, ignoring Gene's sighs. "It's DI Drake."

"Bolly!" He hissed at her as she tapped repeatedly on the door like a demented woodpecker.

She frowned, disappointed, stepping away from the house. "I don't think there's anyone in."

"Really? What gave that away?" He said sarcastically, before blinking in surprise as she walked along the front of the house and round to the back gate. "Where you goin'?"

"Around the back." She shrugged casually.

"...like a dog with a soddin' bone." He muttered, but knowing he'd have to follow her. He scowled as she pulled at the gate's bolt and pushed the door to the small paved garden. "_Bolly_, wait, stop."

She sighed patiently. _What now?_ "Yes, Guv?"

Gene grimaced inwardly, hating himself for saying it, but it was worth a try. "We don't even have a bloody warrant."

Alex paused, her jaw nearly dropping open."Since when has that _ever_ stopped you." She shook her head bewildered by his behaviour but stepped into the back. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "What?!"

Gene licked his lips, warning her. "You're opening a can of worms, Bols. The dad confessed, leave it at that."

Taking a moment to look at him, she frowned. He'd always trusted her hunches and now he was fighting tooth and nail for her to accept...Her frown deepened. The Guv never took this much convincing. What she'd said to him on Friday should have been enough for them to chase other leads, but he'd shut the conversation down, just like he'd tried to this morning. He'd driven them over here, but that had only really been to shut her up.

"What aren't you telling me?" Alex demanded, knowing he was keeping something from her. "Gene?"

"After you asked, I had to bloody find out, didn't I?" Gene complained, glaring at her. _It's all her bleedin' fault_. She frowned, still not catching on. "Who Withers was on the blower to, before he confessed."

His telephone call; Carl had been on the phone to somebody before his sudden confession. "And?"

"His kids." Gene sighed. "His son, Craig."

Alex swallowed; everything clicked into place. "You think Craig did it." It wasn't a question; she could read it on his face. "How long have you thought that?"

"Does it matter?" He sighed again.

"Then, why are we going through with this charade?" She asked, irritated. If the Guv knew all this, why hadn't they brought Craig in for questioning instead of sneaking around the bins?

"He's trying to protect his son." Gene told her sternly. _Cleverest bird in the world but she can't see the wood for the trees_. "That boy has his whole life ahead of him, but Carl - he's a pisshead, he's had his go, he _knows_ that."

"But Carl didn't kill anybody." Alex retorted, stunned that he was willing to let an innocent man go to prison. "He'll get life, Gene - you know how it looks, the attack may be frenzied but that he came to the house, that he came armed?" She knew he couldn't refute it. "His confession isn't one inclined to a manslaughter sentence, it'll be two counts of murder. If Craig explains it to us - I mean, his mother was obviously a difficult woman - a jury would look kindly on-"

"He's fifteen, Bols." Gene said grimly, knowing Craig would get caught up with the wrong sort. "Once he goes in, they'll be no getting out."

"But the truth-"

"Why are you so obsessed with the truth?" He snapped, not understanding her. "Our job is to smack down the bag guys; Craig Withers is not a bad guy. He's a kid."

She sighed, sympathetic but they didn't know enough to simply walk away. "This isn't your call, Gene. You have an obligation..." She trailed off, as he began to glare at her. She tried another tact. "Look, we don't know what happened that night. Here's our chance to find out. Craig may yet be innocent, it might be that-"

"Inspector Drake!" Alex's head snapped round to see Aunt Gail at the back door. She'd only briefly met the woman once, having dropped the kids off after ice cream. "What are you doing 'ere?" Gail smiled, seemingly not bothered that two police officers were ultimately trespassing on her property. "You wantin' to take the kids down the station, 'cause they'll be back in a minute; I only let them go to the tuck shop."

Alex blinked. "Why would we being taking them down the station?"

"Your lot called, said that Carl's being shipped off to Strangeways this evening and he wanted to say goodbye. What surprised me is that they actually wanted to say goodbye to him, too, but I s'pose they won't be seeing him for a very long time after today." She said, not all that fazed. She nodded towards Gene. "You must be DCI Hunt, heard a lot about you. You two wanna stay for a brew?"

"Nah," Gene waved her off, less awkward than Alex at being caught snooping, "you're alright love."

"Oh, go on," Gail insisted, stepping back so they could come into the kitchen, "I've got garibaldis."

"Yeah, alright, you've twisted my arm." Not that it needed much twisting. He followed after Gail but paused at the threshold. "Bolly?"

"Yeah, I'm coming..." She answered him, absentmindedly as her eyes took note of the camping equipment tucked in the corner. Coming closer, she looked at the little tent erected. She smiled; Molly had a tent like that. She'd wanted to roast marshmallows and look at the stars, so Alex had bought a tent and they'd put it up in the garden. They roasted the marshmallows, but they'd only lasted an hour in the tent before they, shivering, returned to the warmth of the house. She'd made hot chocolates to warm them up.

Alex sighed. _It must be Craig's tent for his trip with the Scouts_. Kneeling in, she smiled at the various rubbish collected in there. Wrappers to chocolate he wasn't supposed to have before dinner, a football for a kick-about, a teddy bear for company, a rucksack for camping. Picking up the rucksack, she smiled at the smiley-faced badge sewn into it; she'd done that once. Opening it up, she came away with keys, pencils, a pick 'n' mix bag of sweets which had certainly seen better days and -

Alex pulled her hand back as she came away with something wrapped in a handkerchief, it all covered in blood. A knife. _The_ knife. Her heart sunk; her instincts had unfortunately been right. Shoving it back into the bag, Alex got up and walked into the kitchen, unsurprised to see Gene making his way through the biscuits.

"Guv..." She started.

"Oh, I love that one," Gail smiled, setting down Gene's tea, "they had that one on the telly on Wednesday night, didn't they Craig?"

Alex's eyes snapped to the third person in the room. And the fourth. The kitchen had an archway on to the living room and there Craig sat, on the sofa reading a comic, his sister Robin cross-legged on the floor, her face almost pressed to the telly screen as she watched the cartoons. Neither of them having gone back to school yet, of course. She remembered having a half-term off after her parents were blown to kingdom come.

"Had what?" Craig asked, still reading.

"The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance with John Wayne and that other one, you know." Gail waved her hand, forgetting his name. "Robin, please, you'll go blind sitting so close."

"Jimmy Stewart." Gene said seriously. "_That_ _other_ _one_ - it's Jimmy Stewart."

"Pardon me!" Gail laughed, seeing he was taking offence. "See that Craig, the Chief Inspector is just as fussy about his Westerns."

"So, Craig comes over for his tea, then?" Alex asked conversationally, still holding the bag, but coming to sit next to Gene. She didn't want to startle everyone; it was better that Craig came down to the station and had a chance to explain.

"Every Wednesday, 'cause of his football practice," Gail informed her, sipping on her tea, "and then he stays over - school's closer to us, anyway," She shrugged, "makes sense."

Alex frowned. _Wednesday_? "You slept here on Wednesday night?" She asked Craig, confused. "You never said that to me."

"Didn't think it was important." Craig smiled tightly, abandoning his comic to come join them. "We're ready to go when you are, so-"

"Of course, it's important." Alex replied. Wednesday was the night of the murders. "You lied; you said that you left your mum and Michael to it, that you left early for Scouts." She looked at Craig, demanding answers.

"Scouts?" Gail snorted, amused. "Our Craig?" She turned to her nephew, amused; he looked like he wanted the world to swallow him up. "I thought you said the Scouts was for losers and teachers' pets."

The Guv looked at Alex, wanting to know what the hell was going on, but she was struggling to connect the dots herself. She held up the rucksack. "Then what is _this_, Craig?"

Gail frowned, confused. "Found that with Robin's camping stuff?"

The breath left Alex's body as her hand came out with the knife, her eyes snapped to Craig's. "_What_?"

"She recently moved up from brownies to guides, didn't you Robin?" Gail smiled as Robin came into view, hovering in the archway. Her aunt frowned, as Robin turned white. She looked back to the Inspector, gasping at what she saw in DI Drake's hand. "Is that a knife? Who gave her a knife?"

"You..." Alex whispered, now looking at the little girl. "_You_ were the one. You stabbed Michael."

There was her precious truth. Her heart broke as Robin's tears hit the floor, her voice so small.

"I didn't mean to."

* * *

_He's not throwing the tape recorder at the wall now_, Alex noted wryly as Gene clicked it to record. Sighing inwardly, she looked down into her lap, feeling Robin's sad eyes on her. A hush had settled on the station when the girl had been brought in for questioning. This wasn't the great collar they'd been hoping for. Being a police officer, it was all about stringing up some murdering scum by the bollocks, to paraphrase the Guv - not _this_. This wasn't why she'd signed up for the force, and it wasn't why the others had either. The glares she'd got as they came back. They blamed her. She'd dragged off the Guv on some goose chase - without even telling the boys; she didn't need to be a mind reader to know Ray wanted to deck her. Alex didn't blame him, none of them. Sam wouldn't have pushed it this far.

She couldn't even look at Robin for the guilt. Craig pleaded with them not to take her; her Aunt was in the relatives room, hysterical. Phyllis said that Carl Withers hadn't stopped banging on his cell door, demanding to speak to his daughter; Alex supposed one of C.I.D had informed him. Most of them were fathers, they could empathise, they would do the same - they'd expect the Guv to let them do the same.

"Just..." She heard Gene sigh, throwing her another furtive glance as the woman who never shut up had suddenly taken a vow of silence, "- tell us what happened, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry, Alex," Robin sounded so desperate, so small. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I don't..."

"It's alright." The Guv assured her gently, his deep voice focusing her. "Hey, you tell the Gene Genie what happened. I'm listenin'."

"...Mummy and Mike were fightin'." Robin sniffed. "They're always fightin'. I love me mam, but...she's not nice sometimes."

"Was she not being nice that night?" Gene asked.

"Only 'cause Mike wanted to move, to take us all away somewhere." Robin shrugged, rubbing her eyes. "But we like it 'round here. So, she hit him some."

Gene looked to Alex, hoping that might put some colour in her cheeks. _Bolly was right on the money_. But he groaned inwardly to see her still keeping quiet. "She hit him?"

"Like she does Dad - and Craig." Robin nodded, sighing shakily. "Like she does me." Alex bit the inside of her cheek. _What the hell have I done? _She grimaced as the girl's breath got away from her and she started crying. "She always says sorry, she doesn't mean it. And I only had the knife 'cause I took it from our Brown Owl."

"Your what?" Gene frowned, thrown for a moment, but Alex knew; Molly was wanting to join the Guides.

"With the Guides, for the trip," Robin told him, crying and rambling, "- the knives are just for the group leaders, but I wanted to show that I could, that I'm just as good, and me stuff was at Aunt Gail's but I wanted to show it to Craig," She said, choking back a sob, "but I didn't mean, I don't-"

"Ssh, Robin," The Guv held the little girl's gaze, waiting for her to catch her breath. "Calm down - it's alright."

Robin nodded, her breath hitching as she quietened down. She looked desperately to Alex, again. "I'm a good girl, I am. I promise." But Alex still struggled to give her much eye contact; Gene smiled gently at the girl to continue. Robin sighed. "They were fightin' on the stairs, at the top, she started hittin' him and then he...he growled at her, he pushed her and she..."

_She didn't kill her mother. Small mercies_. "So, Mike was the one who pushed your mam down the stairs?" Gene asked her, needing to get that straight; Robin nodded, sure of herself. "Then, what happened?"

Robin closed her eyes, trying to remember it right."I was upstairs, I called to her but she didn't get up...I heard him cryin', sayin' stuff to himself...he went into mam's room, when I went in after him, he was just...I don't know, he was lying on the bed, lookin' up, not movin' or nothin'." She frowned, not understanding it. "And I had the knife in me pocket." Robin bit her lip, looking at Alex guiltily, too scared to admit to it.

"Robin?" The Guv prompted her.

But Robin didn't say anymore until Alex looked at her. Alex dragged her eyes from the table to the little girl; she couldn't hate herself anymore than she did at that moment. The girl looked terrified, and now here she was, a grown woman, the _reason_ this little girl was crying her heart out, too much of a coward to even look at her. Alex smiled sadly, encouraging her to go on.

"At school, when some of the girls pick on me, I get so mad. I'm always gettin' sent home for fightin'." Robin searched for the right words. "It's like...someone else is me for a bit and she does bad things, and then I'm me again. One moment, he's lyin' there and I can feel my heart goin' - and then, there was so much blood." She whimpered, remembering. "I lay down on the floor, I closed my eyes, wishin' it away." Robin squeezed her eyes shut as she had then. "Kept wishin' it away. Then I open them and it's mornin'. I thought it was all a dream - and then I looked and he was still there, and me mam..."

She broke off, her tears now sobs. Alex didn't bother to hide the tears now on her cheeks. She was only a girl, who'd seen horrible things and had been messed up by them. She could so easily have been Robin. The car, the bomb, the balloon - if it hadn't been for someone taking her hand, making her feel safe, she might have been Robin. From under her eyelashes, she let herself look at the man who'd held her hand. She supposed he was going to tell her to pull it together, but he simply pouted, a small incline of the head gesturing to Robin. "Bolly." She knew what he was asking; _be a mother, Alex_.

Wiping her tears away, she tentatively opened her arms for Robin. "Come here. " She whispered. First thing she'd said since they'd sat down.

Robin near scrambled from the chair, flinging herself into Alex. "I'm sorry, I'm a good girl." She kept sobbing, though it was muffled as she buried her face in Alex's shoulder. "I really am."

"I know you are." Alex assured her softly, pulling her properly into her lap, almost rocking her, soothing her with kisses to her brow. "I know." She looked to the Guv, but he averted his gaze as she calmed Robin over the next few minutes, letting her cry as much as she needed.

Eventually, Robin pulled back her face, resting a cheek, tired and red, over Alex's heart. She sighed. "When you took us to Craig, I told him and he said he'd sort it."

Alex nodded, remembering Craig's ashen face as she left them to speak outside the school. "By saying that he'd been in the house, too? By speaking to your dad about it?"

"That's why he's goin' to prison, isn't it?" Robin lifted her head to ask. "'Cause you think he did it? Daddy didn't do nothin'." Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Robin leant back into Alex's embrace. "I'm sorry."

Alex glanced up at Gene, watching the pained expression on his face as he pressed pause on the tape recorder. Robin's father certainly wasn't going to prison anymore. A child who'd committed murder was looking at a detention sentence of a minimum of twelve years - that would make Robin twenty-three before she was free again. Her black-out of the crime that she described, how a sort of red haze fell over her, would have any lawyer pleading the defence of diminished responsibility, but if they carted her out to an asylum, there was a possibility that they would lock the door and throw away the key. The Guv knew it; so did she. And there was that guilt, again. Alex could only hug her tighter.

"I'm sorry, too."

* * *

The rest of the day was taken up with interviews with Craig, his aunt and Carl Withers; all of them distraught and all of them willing to go to extreme lengths to protect Robin. Aunt Gail tried to give Sam and Annie the run-around in her interview, making up lies until eventually she had so many wires crossed all she could do was beg that they didn't take her niece away. Whilst Craig and Carl had kept a united front, both insisting that Carl was guilty and that Robin simply had an over-active imagination, not wanting her Daddy to go to jail. But the desperation on their faces gave them away and Craig was the first to break, laying into Alex for breaking her promise that she'd keep he and Robin together. Carl Withers, a man put to them as weak and spineless, proved he was made of stronger stuff, holding to his story until the Guv had been obliged to poke so many holes in it that he tried to make a deal.

But the days for making deals with the police - as long as the Guv was in charge - were gone. Carl Withers walked from the station a free man, and Robin Withers was taken by the hand by a smart-dressed doctor who told her that they were going on a little trip. Until her first court hearing, she was to be assessed and looked after in the Royal Manchester Children's Hospital psychiatric ward.

By clocking-off time, the C.I.D lads were trailing out with a bitter taste in their mouths. Today had not been a good day. Only the faces she really knew were left in the room. All of them staring at her for a variety of reasons.

For Ray, of course, it was anger. Alex flinched as his slow clap echoed round the room. "Well done, Inspector." She dragged her eyes up to him from where she sat, perched on a desk; disgust was all over his face. "There was me thinking that family couldn't be brought any lower and then there you are, on hand, to prove us all wrong. Feel good, does it?"

"Pack it in, Ray." She heard Sam sigh tiredly from his own chair. It had been a long day, but he didn't see the need for pointing fingers.

"No, I won't." Ray snapped, taking a stand. "What she did was plain wrong - all those kids had was each other, even the dad knew that and he's spent his whole bleedin' life three sheets to the wind! Finally, he had the chance to do the right thing and you took it from him, very classy Drake."

Sam looked to Alex, waited for her to defend herself, but she said nothing, her eyes falling back to the floor. Annie bristled, rising to her defence. "Well, I think DI Drake did the right thing - we can't send innocent people to jail because it suits us, Ray, not when we know the truth."

"I just don't understand it," Chris shrugged, blown away by the case, "- how a kid managed that."

_What was there to understand?_, Alex thought grimly. Michael Vine and Robin both went into shock when Christine broke her neck that night. They reacted in different ways. Michael probably didn't snap out of it until Robin had made her first stab. He may have tried to fight her off - her blood-stained clothes indicated that he had - but eventually, she struck gold, stabbing him the heart, the result catastrophic.

"That's Sergeant to you, Cartwright." Ray rebuked Annie, sick of the women clubbing together. "The _truth_ is that that poor girl Drake's got her knickers in a twist over will never have a life, all 'cause of her."

"That's enough, Carling." The Guv's quiet order putting a stop to things. Alex blindly accepting the whiskey tumbler he placed in her hand. "Pub."

"Yeah, Guv." Ray didn't hide the scowl as the Guv gave the woman a drink. He didn't get it - a nice pair of tits, maybe, but she was poison. "Let's go celebrate the Inspector's collar." He muttered drily grabbing his jacket; Chris threw an apologetic half-smile in Drake's direction, but was quick to follow his drinking buddy out.

"Ignore him, Ma'am." Annie clucked her tongue, offering a sympathetic hand to the shoulder. Alex had to stop herself from shrugging her off. "You did your job, you fought for the truth - it's difficult, but it's what's _right_." Then_, why did it feel so crap?_ Alex begged to ask her, but instead settled on a dry smile and throwing back her drink. Annie sighed inwardly, looking to Sam for back up.

"You're a detective and today, you did your job." Sam chimed in, "that's all you can do." Alex sighed, his face showing that he realised it sometimes sucked, but it wasn't for the police to decide who deserved to be banged up. Objectively, she'd done well, not leaving any stone unturned until she found what she was looking for.

"Alright, you two, no need to get soppy," Gene grumbled, sipping on his own drink, "- get yourselves down the Arms, we'll join you in a bit."

Sam gave him an even stare, as Annie grabbed her things; he hoped he wouldn't be too hard on her or, more likely from the raised eyebrow Annie was sending his way, give his wife something to worry about.

Watching them go, Gene had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the looks Sonny and Cher were throwing each other. _Bloody rude!_ As if he'd take advantage of a vulnerable woman. _I'm not Ray_. He turned his attention back to Bolly, who was looking at him searchingly. Searching for what, he didn't know. "He's right."

Gene frowned. "Who's right?"

"Ray." She supplied, crossing her arms, "there's nothing to bloody celebrate. In fact, he might just be right about all of it." Alex smiled humourlessly.

"You think so?" Gene clucked his tongue; it strangely bothered him to see her so deflated. He narrowed his eyes at her, thinking. Was he going to bring her up or bring her down? The last few days, she'd been relentless, not shutting up for a minute, so determined that Carl wasn't the murderer. And she'd been right. Her hunches had been right; they might both have been suspecting Craig, but it led them to Robin. She'd bugged him and hassled him and worn him down until eventually he'd given in and that, _that_ was what she was supposed to do! Be an annoying tart until they found their killer. She'd succeeded in that; he couldn't let Bolly leave thinking all she'd done was failed.

"Carl Withers is an innocent man." He reminded her, coming to perch beside her. "You knew that from the start. Weak, letting his wife smack him about like that, and a drunk, but now he's _all_ that those kids have got. He could step up to the mark." Gene shrugged, looking on the bright side. "Quit the booze and be the best daddy in the world."

Alex scoffed; she doubted he believed that. "Or maybe he won't. Maybe he'll go on as he always has. No wife, daughter a murderer - I'd have a bottle of whiskey in my hand." She muttered, imagining it all so clearly. "And then _maybe_ - his mum dead, his dad as good as - Craig goes off the rails, he gives up, because the only person in this miserable world he gave a shit about is rotting in jail," Alex smiled sadly, "- because I put her there. "

Gene pouted for a moment. He couldn't lie to her, but there was no point thinking the worst. "Maybe. Or maybe not." Though she probably liked to think it, she didn't know everything ."I don't know about you Bolly, but I don't have a magic crystal ball with all the answers - all I know is that Robin Withers was responsible for the death of Michael Vine."

"That's not who you would've sent down, though." She whispered knowingly, keeping her eyes on the bottom of her empty glass. She didn't really feel like seeing it confirmed on his face.

"I don't know, Bols, not anymore," She blinked up, surprised to hear that, just as surprised as Gene was to say it. He shook his head amused, one week and this woman was making him think and question all sorts. It was Sam all over again. _Only probably worse. _He nudged her elbow playfully, hoping she wouldn't think too much on his confession. "And I'm blaming you for that."

Alex tried to smile, but her mind was still plagued by Robin's face. "She's just a little girl, just like mine. What kind of future is she going to have?" She sighed, the guilt hitting her again. "Ray's right; I've destroyed that family."

"She's eleven and she's stabbing people," Gene willed her to see sense, "- she needs help. You heard her in there. She could have easily done this again." And he could easily imagine it.

"Don't look like that - this isn't The Exorcist." She scratched her forehead, putting her glass beside her. "Violence has been a part of Robin's short life for as long as she can remember; she doesn't know another way of processing her emotions. She's a product of her environment."

"Please, me dad smacked us about all the time and I turned out fine." Gene scoffed, sick of her dishing out the same hippy excuses as Gladys. Still, she was smart enough not to comment on that. Slapping his thighs, he got up, turning to face her. If Bolly's version of buggering up was solving a case, then Gene supposed he could live with her. "This has been one hell of a first week. You've done good, Bolly - three murders solved and I haven't killed you yet. Consider your transfer permanent." He nodded, smiling briefly. "You've got my stamp of approval." She narrowed her eyes as his gaze wandered downwards. "Speaking of stamps, I've heard of a certain Met practice that I was thinking of introducing to welcome you-"

"You're not stamping my arse."

He started, wondering not for the first time if she was a bloody mind-reader. Gene heaved a dramatic sigh. "You just hate to see me have fun, don't you?"

Alex smiled, loving him for trying to cheer her up, but it was niggling at her. Why didn't she listen to him? She shrugged helplessly at him. "Why did I push for the truth?"

"Not all it's cracked up to be, I know." The Guv nodded slowly, hoping she took note. "The truth, I can take it or leave it. You don't need to know everything about a person to _know_ 'em, Bolly," He swallowed as he let that thought settle on her. Seven days and he _knew_ her. "- _trust_, that's what this life is about."

_Still plenty of lessons to learn before you go on. _That's what old Michael had said to her on the bench. And he had a point. The whole reason she'd ended up in 1975 was because she and Gene had lost their trust in one another. Meanwhile, the old adage that the truth would set her free had yet to do so. Knowing that her dad was behind the car bomb wouldn't bring her parents back anymore than telling Gene that she was from the future would bring her home. Knowing everything didn't bring closure or make you happy, that came from knowing yourself - and knowing who you could trust. Sam placed his trust in the Guv, in this world; it was time for her to do the same.

"Trust." She smiled softly. "Do you trust me, Gene?"

She frowned as he nodded down, but followed his gaze and it took only a moment for her eyes to glisten, a grin stretching from ear to ear as crocodile skin had come to replaced the white leather.

"I'm wearing boots, aren't I?"

**TBC...**

* * *

**Oh la la - Faces (good song to end that chapter on) Hope you enjoyed it, took my time over it so if you could take the time to review I'd be grateful :)**


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